


Shattered

by charis2770



Series: Finding Vengeance...or is it Something Else? [36]
Category: Finder no Hyouteki | Finder Series
Genre: Aftercare, Ageplay, Angst, BDSM, BDSM AU, Canon-Typical Violence, Catharsis, Crying, Feilong gets broken, Getting carried away, Going too far, M/M, Roleplay, Rough Oral Sex, Slash, Spanking, Tears, Whipping, Yaoi, hurt Akihito, more tags to come
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-01
Updated: 2017-03-16
Packaged: 2018-09-27 15:48:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 24,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10030070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charis2770/pseuds/charis2770
Summary: Asami is, again, away on business. Since they had fun last time, Akihito and Feilong decide to indulge in some more roleplay as their younger selves, and have come up with a scenario rather than just winging it. But due to things going on in his life, Feilong's having a little trouble focusing on being just Aki's big brother Fei. He gets carried away. Very carried away. Aki has to use a safeword. When he sees the damage he's done, Feilong feels his world falling apart around his ears.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Fujoshi_Gal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fujoshi_Gal/gifts).



> I almost hate to do this right on the tail of having done a lot to fix our pretty Feilong....
> 
> But I'm going to break him. 
> 
> Just bear with me.
> 
> Special thanks to my new, wonderful friend and long-time follower, Fujoshi_gal for supporting me This story is her suggestion, and I fell in love with the idea.
> 
> To find out more about me and my work, PLEASE check me out here:  
> https://charis2770.tumblr.com/
> 
> My tumblr: askasamifaieandaki.tumblr.com  
> 

J“Do you have any idea what time is it?”

 

Aki jumps half out of his skin at the sound of the voice coming from the darkened living room, letting out a very undignified yelp, and falls over in the process of taking off his shoes. Disgruntled and embarrassed by his own reaction, he clambers awkwardly to his feet and moves to stand in the doorway to the living room, his fists clenched by his sides. A single lamp clicks on and reveals his brother sitting in Uncle Ryu’s big chair, his arms crossed over his chest, his lovely face expressionless. Aki’s heart begins to race.

 

“What the fuck, FeiFei? You scared the shit out of me,” he says shrilly. Fei’s eyes narrow.

 

“You didn’t answer the question,” he says coldly, ignoring Aki’s bluster.

 

“What do you care?” mutters Aki sullenly, turning his back on his older brother and marching towards the kitchen. He lets out another yelp when he’s grabbed suddenly by the arm. It’s really not fair that Fei can move so fast and so quietly when he tries!

 

“What do I  _ care? _ Oh, let me just think about the reasons. For one thing, it’s more than two hours past your curfew, little boy. For another, I didn’t know where you were and I was worried something might have happened to you, especially when you didn’t answer your phone! And for  _ another _ , you know there are bad people out there who’d probably just love to get their hands on someone as cute as you are. Uncle Ryu’s warning us about that all the time, but you just didn’t listen, did you? And if all of that isn’t enough, when he finds out I let this happen when he left me in charge of looking after you while he’s gone, do you know how bad it’s gonna be for me? Huh?” The hand holding his arm in its vicelike grip shakes him hard. Aki tries to pull away, but Fei is far stronger, and Aki can’t shake him. He turns to face his brother and lifts his chin stubbornly.

 

“I don’t care,” he cries angrily. “You’re being mean! I was just hanging out with my friends, and nothing happened! I’m sick and tired of you being so bossy all the time, and I just wanted to go have some fun! I’m  _ fine _ , and there’s no reason you’ve gotta be an asshole tattletail. Just keep your stupid mouth shut and nothing will happen to either one of us! Geez. Let  _ go _ of me!”

 

Fei grabs Aki’s other arm and yanks him close, so that they’re standing almost nose to nose.

 

“You’re gonna talk to me like that and then expect me to  _ lie _ for you?” the older boy hisses furiously. Aki swallows nervously.

 

“I...I’m sorry, FeiFei. I...I didn’t mean it. You just scared me, sitting there in the dark like that. I’m sorry I worried you. But...I really am fine, okay? Just...please don’t tell Uncle Ryu on me. Please?” He bites his lip and gives Fei his best puppy dog eyes. Which usually works pretty well. His Ani loves him, and finds Aki awfully hard to resist when he’s being cute. But Fei’s facial expression doesn’t change. He still looks mad, and upset, and even a little scared. Aki’s mind goes to the way Uncle Ryu punishes his errant nephews when they’re bad, and his stomach tenses with nervousness. He knows Fei always gets the worst of it. Guilt suddenly gnaws at him when he realizes what he’s asking his brother to do. If Fei were to agree, and Uncle Ryu ever found out, Aki can’t even imagine how bad it would be. For both of them, but for Fei especially. Not only that, but these awesome times when Uncle Ryu trusts them enough to go away on one of his business trips and let them stay alone together, leaving Fei in charge, will become a thing of the past. He glances down at the repaired vase sitting on the lower shelf of the curio beside the big television. The one Aki had broken the last time they’d been alone for one of those trips. Fei had spanked him for it, and in return, he’d taken the blame for breaking the vase. Uncle Ryu had honored Fei’s sacrifice, even though he’d known the older boy was covering for Aki, after finding out that Aki had already been punished. But he can remember hearing Fei  _ screaming _ from behind the closed bedroom door.

 

“I can’t,” says Fei softly. “I can’t lie about this, Aki. This isn’t anything like breaking something expensive. You did something really dangerous, you didn’t just break a rule Uncle Ryu would never bend on. Something could have happened to you. And I can’t believe you’d ask me to.”

 

“You’re right,” whispers Aki, feeling miserable and selfish. Then he glances up at his brother again. “But...but….would... _ you _ take care of it again, like last time?” Fei blinks at him. His fingers tighten convulsively on Aki’s slender arms.

 

“I was going to anyway,” he says in a low voice that makes Aki shiver for some reason. “This time I have  _ permission _ to punish you if you screw up. And you did, Aki. You  _ really _ screwed up.”

 

With that, he turns and begins dragging his little brother unceremoniously towards Uncle Ryu’s bedroom. Aki digs in his heels and tries to resist, the cold look in Fei’s eyes causing a tingle of fear to run up his spine, but it’s futile. Fei is much stronger, and apparently very resolved. 

 

“Take off your pants and underwear,” growls Fei when they reach the bedroom, letting go of Aki’s arm at last. Aki rubs the reddened skin softly, staring at his brother with wide eyes. His arm actually hurts, enough that he thinks he may have bruises on it tomorrow. There’s no way out of this, and in truth, he doesn’t  _ really _ want one. If he’s honest with himself, he’d stayed out past his curfew, at least a little bit, to find out what Fei would do. Fei excites him when he’s forceful, and his brother’s spankings, while still painful, are less so, and less scary, than Uncle Ryu’s. Aside from that, afterwards, Fei is sweet and gentle with him, and his touches make Aki shiver and it feels so good….

 

His fingers, fumbling at his pants, freeze in shock when Fei turns and walks into the bathroom. There’s really only one reason for him to do so, and it makes all the spit seem to dry up in Aki’s mouth.

 

“Fei, no,” he cries out. “Not...not the bath brush!”

 

“If your pants aren’t off when I come back out there, it’s gonna be a lot worse for you,” comes Fei’s voice in that funny echoing sound people’s voices make in rooms with tiled walls. Aki swallows around the lump in his throat and hurriedly shoves both his pants and underwear down at the same time, suddenly trembling. The paddle FeiFei had used the last time he’d punished Aki had hurt, but Aki knows how bad the thick black acrylic bath brush feels to be spanked with. Its acrylic construction makes it sting more than a wooden or leather implement, and it’s weight combined with the length of its handle drive the hurt of a blow with the brush down deep into flesh with bruising force. Uncle Ryu uses it sometimes, but Aki would never have dreamed that his beloved, protective big brother would choose something like this.

 

Still, just because the bath brush  _ can _ hurt more than almost anything (Aki has never been caned or whipped with the tawse that he knows Uncle Ryu has used on Fei, and he’s pretty sure those are a lot worse, but the bath brush is the worst thing Aki’s ever felt, and it’s so scary), it doesn’t mean Fei’s going to spank him as hard with it as their Uncle does. He tries to comfort himself with this thought as he stands waiting, his hands shaking a little as he waits for Fei to come out of the bathroom.

 

When he does, the long-handled brush clenched in his fist, the look of resolve on his face shakes Aki’s hope a little bit. The younger boy does his best to cover himself with his hands in front, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment that his stupid dick is more than halfway hard despite what’s about to happen, and blinks back the tears that sting the corners of his eyes.

 

“FeiFei, please,” he whispers. Fei sets his jaw and sits down on the bed, scooting up so that his back is against the wall. He looks at Aki, who shivers at the darkness he sees in his brother’s eyes.

 

“Come here,” orders Fei softly. Aki shuffles closer, and crawls reluctantly up onto the bed. Fei grabs his arm and pulls him over his lap. Aki gasps and tries not to squirm as Fei arranges him to his liking, not wanting to admit that he kind of likes the way Fei manhandles him so easily. In moments, he’s lying over Fei’s thighs, his bare bottom pointed up at the ceiling, his now fully erect penis rubbing against Fei’s leg. His neck and ears are scarlet with embarrassment.

 

“Please, FeiFei,” he whimpers, hoping to soften the icy resolve he feels in the older boy a little bit, “not too hard? I’m really sorry!”

 

“I don’t think you really are,” says Fei softly. “Not if you’d ask me to lie for you. But you’re going to be.”

 

The cool acrylic surface of the brush rubs in small circles over Aki’s quivering cheeks. He holds his breath when it lifts away. The first smack stings, but it’s not too terrible. Relief makes him go limp over his brother’s lap. Maybe this isn’t going to be so bad after all. And at first, it’s not. Fei starts out carefully, spanking Aki fairly lightly, bringing out heat and a stinging tingle in Aki’s rounded cheeks. Aki pants and whimpers and squirms, and can feel Fei’s cock hardening under him. But slowly, Fei starts to spank him harder. Soon his whimpers become small cries and yelps. Ohh, that nasty brush really bites. On a much harder spank, his hand flies down to try to cover his defenseless bottom. Fei grabs his wrist and pins it to the small of his back. Then he starts to spank Aki a lot harder. Soon tears fill the younger boys eyes and spill over to roll down his cheeks. Oh, now it hurts!

 

“Please,” he cries, “it hurts! F-Fei, please! I’m sorry!”

 

Inside his head, the man and the boy who both live inside Liu Feilong are caught in a battle for control. It’s so much fun to let go of his responsibilities and play at being young and carefree with his Ototo. Feilong loves these roleplays more than he’d ever anticipated he would. While the scenarios they play out with “Uncle Ryu” feed some wild longing in his soul, these times alone with Aki feed a different need; to protect and care for something precious that he knows he’s failed to do so many times in his past. They don’t do this often, but he always looks forward to it with excitement. The scenario they’d come up with for tonight is thrilling, but he’d had to ignore an odd ticking scratch in the back of his brain when Akihito had suggested it.

 

Recent weeks have wrought many changes for Feilong. Since his visit to Hong Kong and his rather bloody sparring match with Asami, followed by that eye-opening little session with his skilled lover’s whip, Feilong has stopped holding himself back. Already he’s acquired a couple of promising properties and invested in the security firm Yoh had founded with their help several months ago. It’s not about the money. He still has plenty of that. He could probably live comfortably for the rest of his life on the profits from his casino cruise ship alone, even now that he’s eliminated its use as a cover for certain illegal smuggling operations (though he and Asami have converted some of those operations into a different sort of smuggling, but one he can feel good about; shipping certain cancer and AIDS drugs to countries where they are prohibitively expensive are hard to get, earning both of them valuable contacts and allies in a few third world countries that may come in handy someday….or may simply continue to let him feel as though he’s paying back for some of the damage he’s done). But it feels  _ good _ to be back on his feet and in the game, rebuilding himself and establishing a power base in Japan. It feels good to walk into negotiations with lesser men and to know they fear him. He feels no inclination to reassure any of the people he’s bought those properties from that he’s no longer the same person he used to be, and that his ties to Baishe have been cut. Rumors of the organization’s demise have begun to spread, but since no one aside from he, his lovers and the few scattered ex-members who have fled into hiding know the real truth, he feels no need to enlighten anyone else. He’s not holding back anymore, and he  _ likes _ it. Because of that, he’s finding it a little harder than usual to slip seamlessly into the role of a young and relatively inexperienced boy. 

 

Spanking Aki like this feels  _ good. _ Both to Fei and to Liu Feilong. Fei has discovered that he really likes being in charge of his Ototo. It’s so hot, having him like this, helpless and squirming and crying over his lap. It feels good to Feilong too. The way Aki struggles excites him. The boy’s crying excites him. Oh, soothing the hurt and wiping away those pretty tears feels good too, and he’ll comfort his baby brother with all the love and tenderness he ever has, but right now, it’s just exhilarating. Fei spanks Aki harder, paying no attention to his sobs. What had Aki been thinking, staying out so late? Something truly awful could have happened to him. He could have been grabbed off the street by terrible men, the way Uncle Ryu has warned them. Not only that, but when Fei thinks about the punishment he’s going to receive at his uncle’s hands when the man comes home from his business trip to Osaka, even though it fills him with a dark and terrible excitement, it also makes him  _ angry. _ That Fei has allowed something so bad to happen under his watch means the punishment is going to be quite severe indeed. Aki wails under the onslaught of the brush, sobbing and begging and promising to never, ever do it again. Fei flashes a vicious grin that is sharp as knives and spanks him harder. Little brat. Fei’s probably going to get the cane for this one. And Uncle Ryu’s silky voice threatening terrible, agonizing things he intends to do to his boy’s tight little asshole if he lets Aki get in trouble again had made Fei’s stomach clench with equal parts terror and excitement. Yes, Aki’s going to pay for what’s coming to Fei just a little bit, along with his punishment for breaking curfew.

 

Then, in an instant, it all goes to hell.  _ Akihito’s _ voice rings out in an agonized scream.

 

“ _ YELLOW _ !”

 

Feilong drops the bath brush as though it has scalded him, his head spinning a little in disorientation at being yanked so abruptly out of Fei’s headspace. He looks down at the young man laying across his thighs, and for the first time registers the sight of his younger lover. Akihito is sobbing hysterically. His backside and the backs of his thighs are covered with raw, circular welts from the edge of the brush. A few of the edges almost look ready to bleed. Deep, mottled red stains his silky skin in what Feilong knows from experience will be dark purple bruises in the morning. Lost in his own mental struggle to remain in his role, he hasn’t been paying attention to what he’s been doing to Aki. Nausea rises in his throat, thick with bitter bile.

 

“Oh gods,” he whispers. “Aki…”

 

“‘M’okay,” chokes Akihito, breathless with sobs. “Was...was just….I...nuh-needed….t’slow duh-down…”

 

Feilong drags Akihito up into his arms and lays down with him, holding the younger man tightly while Akihito sobs and cries, clinging to him tightly and wetting Feilong’s t-shirt with tears and snot. Feilong holds on, petting Akihito’s back and pressing kisses to the top of his head, murmuring meaningless words of comfort while inside his own head, his world crumbles around him. He tends to Aki with numb detachment even as the voice in his head screams at him to run. He can’t do that though, even though terror turns his blood to ice in his veins. Akihito needs him, needs to be cared for, and Feilong won’t desert him. He brings the boy apple juice and pocky, then fetches the first aid kit and applies salve to the already darkening bruises on Aki’s skin. He cuddles the little photographer and apologizes to him over and over. As Akihito slowly starts to come back to himself, he reaches up and pats Feilong gently on the cheek.

 

“I’m all right,” he says softly. “It’s okay, Feilong, really. It just got a little intense, that’s all. I didn’t say red, y’know.” His voice is thick and raw from crying so hard, and blurred with sleepiness, but he smiles tiredly and hugs Feilong, nuzzling against him with no outward sign of real distress.

 

“No….Aki….I went too far,” whispers Feilong bleakly. “I hurt you. I’m so sorry….”

 

“Hey,” protests Aki softly. “ _ I’m _ sorry I messed up the game havin’ t’ safeword. It was fun, and we didn’t getta finish…”

 

How like Aki, to keep on forgiving no matter what. But Feilong knows he doesn’t deserve forgiveness. He’s done the thing he’d sworn not to do. He’s done the thing Asami has warned him never to do. He has, once again, hurt what belongs to a man who is perfectly willing to lay waste to entire countries to keep this boy safe. There is no way Asami will forgive him again. He wonders desolately if even Yoh will forgive him, vividly recalling his lover warning him not three days ago not to let his renewed sense of personal power to go to his head. And Feilong has just done exactly that. He’d been  _ exulting _ in what he’d been doing to Aki. It’s despicable. He remembers Asami telling him once, in the beginning, that he’d never abandon Feilong, and that if the time ever came that Feilong betrayed him, he wouldn’t hurt Fei, but would simply kill him. 

 

As Aki falls asleep in his arms, Feilong hopes Asami will make it quick.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Asami arrives home to discover what has happened. Feilong chooses to intercept him and confess before Asami has a chance to see Akihito. His choice of words is a little....spectacular. Akihito's actual appearance and state of mind throw Asami's brain into conflict.
> 
> Later, Feilong descends further into his own darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains a small amount of not terribly graphic canon-typical violence. Notes at the end will address some of it.
> 
> Please bear in mind that this story is, at least in part, about mistakes. Everyone makes them. I simply haven't depicted these characters making a great many major ones up until now. My friend's suggestion opened my eyes to how kind of important it is for me to show that, no matter how good you are, or how solid your relationship, everyone screws up. Some people do it more spectacularly than others. 
> 
> Please be sure to read the end notes as well, as there's some important stuff there.

When Asami unlocks the door to the penthouse, shouldering it open while juggling keys, briefcase, garment bag and suitcase with practiced ease, sets them down with a relieved sigh, and toes off his shoes on the mat by the door, it is with more than a little bit of anticipation. His meetings had been necessary, but irritating, and knowing what Akihito and Feilong were getting up to while he’d been away these past 36 hours had been tantalizing. It’s rather late, but he finds himself hoping they’re both still up, and more importantly, still “in character.” Possibly even up to some sort of mischief he can join in. 

 

The sight that greets him in the living room, however, brings him up short and sets off alarm bells in his head. Feilong sits in the middle of the floor in  _ seiza _ , with his head bowed and his eyes pinned to the floor. His long hair falls around his face, an inky curtain that hides his expression. He’s wearing Han Fu which is almost entirely white, with no more than a hint of pale green embroidery at the cuffs and collar, and pale green trim and fastenings. The only time Feilong wears anything white is when he sports Western dress and wears a white button-down, but even this is rare, as he most often selects dress shirts of some color or another. Asami knows perfectly well what white means in Chinese culture. The alarm bells clang louder.

 

“Feilong,” he says quietly, not letting any of his concern show in his voice. “What’s wrong?”

 

Feilong doesn’t look up from the floor to meet his eyes. The hands laying on his thighs curl into fists that turn his knuckles white. Asami realizes suddenly that the other man is trembling. Feilong sucks in a deep breath and lets it out in a long, shuddering sigh.

 

“Asami-sama,” he whispers in a voice as desolate as bare winter branches on cold glass, “I….I have committed an unpardonable sin.”

 

Asami takes a half step back and stares at Feilong in shock. Everything in Feilong’s body language and voice tell him that his lover is speaking the truth, but Asami simply can’t believe it. 

 

“Tell me,” he demands tightly, letting the expressionless mask they’re both so good at adopting slide over his features.

 

“Last night,” continues the bleak whisper, “while Akihito and I were...playing our roles….I...I harmed him, Asami-sama. I forgot myself, though I have sworn to both of you never to do so. I did unforgivable damage, and he had to use his safeword. I...I have hurt what belongs to you, once again, Asami-sama, in a way that cannot be forgiven.” The words trip and stumble out of Feilong’s numb lips, as though he’s resolved to just get them out as fast as possible even though they’re choking him. Asami’s brain screeches to a halt as disjointed parts of Feilong’s phrases echo in his mind like the death knell of something he’s believed to be healthy and secure. 

 

_ Harmed him…..sworn never to do….damage…..cannot be forgiven….. _

 

Rage rises up in a choking black fog. Asami leans down and grabs Feilong by the front of his shirt, yanking him to his feet.

 

“What have you done?” he hisses through his teeth, twisting the fabric tight so that it closes around Feilong’s throat hard enough to cut off his air.

 

“It is as I said,” whispers Feilong miserably.

 

“ _ Where. Is. Akihito _ ,” snarls Asami.

 

“Y-your bedroom,” gags Fei, his face turning red as oxygen becomes a problem. He doesn’t struggle though, or try to push Asami away. Asami’s fist flies almost on its own, colliding with Feilong’s face with a dull thud, his other hand letting go of Feilong’s shirt at the same time. Fei falls hard to the floor and lies there, panting softly.

 

“Don’t you fucking move,” Asami orders coldly, turning on his heel to stride down the hall to his bedroom as fast as he can without  _ actually _ running. The door to his bedroom rebounds off the wall and he has to push it out of his way again to nearly stumble into the room, anger and fear making him almost clumsy. His eyes take in the sight of Aki lying on his bed….

 

And his brain stumbles to a halt yet again. He doesn’t even know what he’d expected to find. Aki wrapped in bandages and attended by his personal physician, possibly unconscious….or simply lying there pale and still with that dull trauma in his eyes Asami had never expected to have to see again….or crying silently as he shivered uncontrollably.

 

But Akihito is lying on his stomach on top of the covers, playing a game on his phone with his feet kicked up behind him, headphones in his ears as his bright, shaggy head bops back and forth to the music Asami can’t hear. He’s singing under his breath. He cranes his head around when the door slams open and his mobile face lights up with a smile. Tugging the headphones out of his ears, he sets his phone down on the bedside table.

 

“Oh, hi Asami! You’re home!”

 

Asami blinks at him for a few seconds in disbelief before he recovers the power of speech.

 

“Akihito,” he says hoarsely. “Are….you alright?”

 

“Huh? Well yeah, of course I’m all right.” He pulls a rueful face. “Well, mostly. I feel really bad though. I think I might need your advice about what to do about FeiFei. I had to call ‘yellow’ when we were playing last night, and it messed up our game. I think he’s mad at me about it, because he ended the scene and after he took care of me, he’s pretty much been avoiding me since then. I feel so bad. What should I do?” 

 

Asami blinks again.

 

“Yellow? You said yellow?”   _ Not red?? _

 

“Duh, that’s what I said. I mean, the….um...scenario? I guess? That we planned was sort of a big one. ‘Aki’ stayed out way past curfew, so ‘Fei’ hadda punish me pretty bad. It got a little too intense for me, so I let him know. But I didn’t mean he had to stop the whole thing.” Aki pouts a little as he says this. Asami tries desperately to reconcile the young man he’s looking at right now with the one he’s just left lying a little bit broken on his living room floor and fails utterly. At a loss as to how to respond to this, he strides over to the bed. One hand pins Aki down by the small of his back while the other grips the waistband of the young man’s boxer briefs, which are all he’s wearing aside from an oversized t-shirt. Aki squawks a little and squirms in his hands.

 

“Hey, what are you doing?” he sputters indignantly.

 

“Let me see,” growls Asami. 

 

“Oh,” says Aki, his ears going a little red. He stops struggling and lifts his hips a bit. “Go easy, okay? I’m a little sore. But it looks worse than it is….”

 

Slowly, Asami peels Akihito’s underwear down over his hips, past the rounded swell of his bottom, and down his thighs. The breath catches in his throat at the sight which greets his amber gaze. Akihito’s backside is covered with black and purple bruising and a number of circular welts which still look raw. Asami sucks air in sharply through his nose. A low growl rumbles in his chest. His fingers ghost lightly over the battered flesh, which makes Aki squeak and let out a tiny whimper.

 

“Hey, I said go easy! I’m kinda sore, you asshole.”

 

“He used the bath brush,” says Asami in a cool voice, devoid of emotion.

 

“Well...yeah. That’s what you...I mean ‘Uncle Ryu’ uses when we’re pretty bad, right? And I did something really bad.”

 

“You’re scared of the bath brush,” Asami says through his teeth.

 

“I know, but  _ you _ know it’s different when we….roleplay. Right?  _ Then, _ I’m not scared of it in a bad way. It’s a part of the...the...game. The roleplay. It’s still sorta scary, but I’m….I’m being  _ punished _ , so it’s like….I can handle it different than if you use it other times.”

 

Asami does know this, of course. Has seen it first hand on more than one occasion. The bath brush always leaves some bruises, but when he’s little Aki, his young lover doesn’t mind them the same way he would at other times. Asami has even caught him trying to look at them in the bathroom mirror, craning his head around and pressing softly against the marks with gentle fingers, hissing softly, with an almost dreamy smile on his face and a more than half-hard cock between his thighs. But Asami has never left bruises like these before. Anger darkens his face again as he leans down to examine them more closely. Akihito notices his expression.

 

“Hey, Asami, take it easy. Didn’t you hear me say I’m fine? Don’t be mad at Feilong. I think everybody gets a little carried away sometimes when they’re….being someone else in their head, y’know? Cause ‘Fei’ was pretty mad, since I broke such a big rule, and made him worry….and then I asked him to lie and cover for me about it. We just got into it a little too deep. They don’t hurt as much as they look like they do, honest. I’ll be fine in a few days. I’m just feeling bad that I messed up the game. I wish I knew how to get FeiFei to stop being mad at me….”

 

“He’s not mad at you,” mutters Asami, examining the marks more closely. The bruises do indeed look rather ugly, but years of experience tell him that Akihito is quite probably right, and that he will indeed be fine in a few days. “I’ll get the salve. It will help them heal faster.”

 

“You don’t need to do that,” Aki assures him quickly.

 

“Oh, yes I do, and you’ll bear it. It will make a big differ….”

 

“No,” Aki interrupts him sharply, twisting a little to put his hand on Asami’s arm. “I mean because Feilong already did that.”

 

“He...oh,” says Asami, frowning in confusion. Akihito’s condition and state of mind are so diametrically opposed to the way Feilong has acted that he concludes there must be more to the story. “Aki,” he says softly, keeping his voice low and gentle. “What else did he do to you?”

 

“Do?” Aki frowns. “Well, he snuggled with me, and gave me juice and pocky, and talked to me and petted me and stuff until I stopped crying, and then he held me until I went to sleep. I’m always a little embarrassed about that….y’know, later….but it’s what I want when I cry a lot.” Asami frowns, his confusion growing larger by the moment.

 

“No,” he says quietly, pressing on, trying not to spook the younger man. “I mean what else did he  _ do _ to you during the scene. Are you….hurt...anywhere else? Do I need to call the doctor, or…”

 

“ _ What _ ? Shit, Asami, are you crazy? No way! Feilong would never hurt me that way again, you know that! What the fuck is wrong with you? I already said he ended everything after I said yellow. Gods, don’t be an asshole! Of course he didn’t….do anything like that. I didn’t even get to come, and I really wanted to! It was  _ hot _ , being….bad that way.” He pouts again. “I woke up with blue balls, and it sucked. But he wouldn’t touch me, even though I asked him to. So now I’ve been frustrated all day, except I didn’t really wanna jerk off….or whatever.” 

 

A charming blush dusts his face and he averts his eyes, twisting the covers between his fingers. Akihito has gotten much better about being honest in his desires, but it still embarrasses him a little to do so. Finally convinced that the marks on his boy’s perfect little ass are indeed the extent of his injuries, Asami feels some of the tension ease between his shoulder blades. He allows himself to smirk at Aki in the way he knows makes the little photographer horny.

 

“It will be my pleasure to ease your discomfort for you,” he purrs darkly, and notes the way Akihito’s skin pebbles in response. “But I need to go and talk to Feilong for a few minutes first. Can you bear it a little longer?”

 

“Well….okay,” mutters Aki. “But you better hurry, or I’m gonna start without you.”

 

Shaking his head in astonishment at Aki’s resilience, Asami stands up and turns to go back into the living room, his tension level rising again as he considers what he’s going to say to Feilong. Anger still roils in the pit of his stomach, but now it’s a conflicted, irritable sort of anger. Feilong  _ had _ gone too far. Akihito’s bruises are more significant than any he’s ever had, outside of the couple of times Asami had  _ actually _ punished him, and more than are acceptable when both Asami and Feilong know that their younger lover isn’t nearly as into pain as Feilong is. But however much the spanking had hurt, it obviously hadn’t been bad enough for Aki to want to stop the scene, merely to slow it down. It had been a mistake, but Asami himself has made the same kind of mistake in his own past. It happens to a lot of people, and as long as safewords are used and respected, it’s far from the end of the world. More significantly he’s angry at Feilong for his choice of words in confessing his mistake to Asami, which had led him to believe things to be much worse than they are. It’s not as if it’s the first time he and Feilong have come to physical blows. They’re men who are accustomed to violence, after all. Feilong had physically attacked him the morning after they’d all been together for the first time, and it hadn’t been the only time they’ve come to minor blows. No, what bothers him about it is how damned  _ unnecessary _ it had been for him to strike Feilong down that way. Guilt nips at his heels as he walks down the hall, and this is irritating too, just because of how avoidable it could have been if Feilong were just acting a little less overly dramatic.

 

Feilong, for his part, is still on the floor exactly where Asami had left him, though he’s raised himself up on his elbows and looks up at Asami when he enters the room. Guilt and terror war for supremacy in his eyes. They track Asami’s movements warily when Asami takes off his suit jacket and lays it over a chair, darting at the Sig resting in its holster fastened to Asami’s shoulder rig. Asami rolls his eyes and leans down to grab Feilong’s arm. Hauling the smaller man to his feet, Asami reaches up and brushes away a small smear of blood from the corner of Feilong’s mouth with his thumb.

 

“You’re an idiot,” he sighs in exasperation.

 

“I know,” whispers Feilong desolately. “I don’t expect you to forgi…”

 

“Shut up, Feilong. You’re an idiot for not telling me that Akihito used ‘yellow’ instead of ‘red’ from the beginning. And really? Don’t you think you could have chosen words that might  _ not _ have led me to expect to find him in my bedroom  _ broken _ ? He’s playing Pokemon Go and feeling worried that you’re mad at him for messing up your scene!”

 

Feilong stares up at him, openmouthed and disbelieving. Asami sighs and leads Feilong over to the big black sectional, pushing him down onto it and sitting beside him.

 

“Listen to me,” he says seriously. “I admit I’m not very happy with you for getting that carried away with him. You  _ do _ know better, and those are some pretty spectacular bruises.”

 

“I damaged him,” says Feilong miserably, “ and betrayed your trust. And his.”

 

“No,” snaps Asami sharply. “If you’d ignored his safeword, that would be true, but you didn’t. He made that very clear. And he’s not damaged. He’s hurt, more than he usually likes and more than I’d approve, but he’s not damaged. He’ll be fine in a few days. Even the best Tops and Dominants in the world have almost all struck a partner harder than they like being struck at least once in their lives. I have. Hell, Feilong, Akihito has used ‘red’ with me before!”

 

“He...has?” wonders Feilong in shock.

 

“Yes. He convinced me to use that rubber flogger I got for you, against my better judgment, and he panicked and forgot his safeword long enough for me to get several strokes in before he remembered it. Then he had a bit of a panic attack, and a hard time coming down from it. I had enough experience to know he wasn’t going to like it, but he used logic to convince me, so I let him, and it was a disaster. He refused to let me blame myself. The point is that people make mistakes. What happened?”

 

Feilong sighs heavily and leans his elbows on his knees, folding in on himself to lay his face in his hands.

 

“I found it….more difficult than usual...to get into character. These past few weeks, starting to rebuild….the challenge of it, and the rush? It made it a little hard to stay in my teenage self’s headspace. I wasn’t as focused as I needed to be on Akihito, and what I was doing, because I was having to try in a way I’ve never had to try before to be who I wanted to be for him. For both of us. I should have ended the scene long before I did, for that reason alone. But I didn’t. I didn’t want to….not just because we’d been looking forward to it so much, but because….I was  _ liking _ it so much. M-making him cry.” His last words are little more than the faintest breath of sound, and he cringes when Asami shifts in his seat.

 

“Well, I think maybe it’s a good idea that you not play with Aki by yourself until you get a little more settled into this new skin of yours and find your footing, as you go about rebuilding,” says Asami thoughtfully. “You chose to turn your back on a lot of power for all of us, and for yourself. It  _ was _ the right choice, Fei. It’s not so hard to understand why taking back some of your own power might cause a misstep here and there. Do you think that’s a fair call?”

 

“No,” says Feilong bleakly, “I think it’s far too generous.”

 

“Well, if you expect me to beat you for it, you’re just going to have to wrap your head around it. You haven’t done anything worthy of a beating. Besides, I gave you this,” says Asami softly, cupping Feilong’s face in his hand and gently touching his bruised mouth again. A corner of his mouth quirks. “We do seem to be good at lashing out at one another now and then, you and I, but I’m sorry for it, and I’d say we’re square.”

 

“But I,” Feilong starts to say.

 

“I’m  _ not _ going to beat you for this, as you’ve clearly been expecting...or worse, considering your choice in clothing. Just find your feet, Feilong. Akihito still trusts you, you’re just going to have to find a way to trust yourself.”

 

“Easily said,” mutters Feilong. Asami huffs a short laugh that is not without bitterness of its own.

 

“You think I don’t know this? And do you think I don’t know the circumstances of your birth and those under which you were raised, and all the hell you’ve been through to get to where you are now? I know they didn’t allow for mistakes, Feilong, but surely you must know by now that I’m nothing like your ‘ _ family. _ ’ When I consider all of my own, who am I to put you in a position where you’re not allowed to slip up, or to be human?  _ Akihito is fine. _ We will all be all right.”

 

“He’s really all right?” whispers Feilong, looking as if he doesn’t quite believe Asami but that he very much wants to.

 

“He’s all right, and demanding that I come back there and do something about the blue balls he woke up with this morning because  _ somebody _ didn’t finish their game. Which I’m going to do. Why don’t you go down to Yoh and let him comfort you? You look like you need it. And take off all that wretched white. Nobody’s having a funeral today.”

 

Feilong does go, and Yoh is waiting for him as he always is. Feilong confesses all to him, though this time he tries to do a bit better of a job than he had initially with Asami, spilling out every sordid detail until, partway through the telling, tears of shame trail down his face and Yoh takes him in his strong arms and Feilong cries like he hasn’t in a very long time.

 

“You warned me,” he mourns, face pressed against Yoh’s chest. “Just the other day, you told me not to let things go to my head, and I did the very thing you warned me not to do.”

 

“Feilong-sama,” whispers Yoh into his hair, “it will be all right. Akihito has likely already given you his forgiveness, and I give you mine as well. You made a mistake, that’s all. We  _ all _ make them. And we all forgive you.”

 

As he stands later in front of the mirror, fresh out of the bath Yoh had insisted upon and which he hadn’t had the heart to resist, Feilong looks unseeingly into his own exquisite face. He doesn’t see the elegant arch of brow, the slender, straight nose, the high cheekbones, the exotic and lovely eyes, the sensual mouth, the flawless skin. He looks into blackness and thinks only that they don’t understand. He turns his back on the mirror. Slipping into the bedroom, he stares down at Yoh for a few moments, watching his lover sleep. It’s very late. He picks the white clothing back up off the floor from where Yoh had tossed it with distaste and slowly puts it back on. White. In China, white is for mourning. It is also for death. He’d been ready for Asami to kill him. He’s not ready for this, their acceptance, their understanding. 

 

The blades slide into hidden pockets and linings with an ease born of years of practice. He slips silently from the condo, and then from the building. He walks a while. If Asami discovers he’s gone out tonight, he can’t afford to be seen getting into a cab. But a walk to clear his head? That’s acceptable. Understandable, even. So he walks several blocks before hailing a cab. He knows he’s not followed. Liu Feilong doesn’t need bodyguards anymore. What he’s looking for now is absolution. 

 

He intends to go through with it. He really does. Knows of a place where there are people who don’t care who he is or what he’s done, they’ll be happy to make him pay. But when large hands slide around his hips, then slam him hard against a brick wall, the acrid smell of urine and vomit assails his nostrils. There’s a woman on the ground, not far from where the panting man with the foul breath paws roughly at Feilong’s unresponsive body. She’s crying. 

 

“Did you do that to her?” he asks in a bored voice. The man trying to reach down the front of his pants grunts a little, distracted, then seems to focus.

 

“Her?” sneers the hulking shadow into his ear. “She couldn’t handle it. But you….you said you wanted it  _ rough _ , didn’t you, pretty boy?”

 

Feilong tilts his head to the side and smiles slowly.

 

“Why yes,” he says softly. “I do.” The woman is still alive, and that’s lucky for the lurching giant, although Feilong thinks detachedly that the giant may not think so anymore. The smell of blood isn’t quite enough to overwhelm the rest of the stench when he’s done. 

 

“My dick,” screams the stranger, rolling in the drips and puddles of piss, vomit and his own blood. Feilong stares down at him, frustration rising bitterly in his throat. He’d meant to go through with it. Yan Tzu had used to say this was all he’d ever be good for. He’d hoped it might be enough to let him look in his lovers’ eyes again. But the woman had been crying.

 

“Stop whining,” he says coolly. “I thought you said you wanted it  _ rough _ .” He leans over to wipe his favorite blade on the fallen man’s sleeve and turns to walk away.

 

“Wait….who are you?” the woman calls out softly.

 

“I’m no one,” says Feilong. He doesn’t turn around.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seiza is a martial arts manner of kneeling.
> 
> Han Fu are Han dynasty style traditional Chinese clothing. I didn't think Feilong would choose one of his Cheongsam in this instance.
> 
> Asami and Feilong are men capable of violence. In the manga, they get in quite a few physical fights. In my own stories, they've also had a few physical confrontations. Bear in mind that when Asami punches Feilong, he's just been led to believe that Akihito is actually seriously hurt. Don't do this in real life. Punching is not good BDSM etiquette. It's not BDSM at all for the most part, though I have known a few people who liked to have their backs hammered on with fists. 
> 
> Feilong's only real mistake in this story was in continuing to spank Aki when he knew he wasn't in the right headspace for it. It's NOT only subs who need to be in the right frame of mind for a scene. Dom/mes need to be too. It's the right and responsible thing to say no to or to stop a scene if you realize you can't keep your head in the game. Feilong's head just gets all tangled up. It might disappoint your sub, but it's better than damaging their body, spirit, or trust. I also feel it's the responsibility of the submissive to accept this decision when it happens, and not pout or complain or otherwise make your Dom/me feel bad about not being able to give you what you want at that time. If you do, you're going to be less likely to get it the next time. You're not the only one who needs understanding and compassion from time to time.
> 
> At the end of the story, in case anyone doesn't understand what's going on, Feilong has slipped out at night to try to find someone to essentially hurt and assault him, even sexually, to try to assauge his own guilt. I wrote it sort of disjointedly on purpose, to show Feilong's own descent in to a worse and worse place. He finds he can't go through with it when he sees the injured woman. No, he does not kill their assailant, but he does hurt him in a rather...m...permanent way. He's engaging in self-destructive behavior because he's choking on his own guilt and is unable to bear all his lovers' forgiveness at this point. Don't do this in real life either. When you feel terrible, talk to someone. Remember that Feilong was once a 20 year old assassin who'd been trained to keep his mouth shut. More ghost from the past are probably going to come out.
> 
> Please, please don't hate me. I think it might break me too....


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Feilong continues to struggle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is really kind of a series of vignettes. I think putting them this way kind of illustrates the fragmentation of Feilong's mind.
> 
> Still in a dark place, my loves.

It is barely dawn when he slips silently back into the condo he so often shares with Yoh, to find his lover already up, and making tea in the kitchen. Yoh turns to look at him, dark eyes impassive as they take in what Feilong is wearing. 

 

“Is it your blood?” he asks tightly, turning away to fill a cup, then back to hand it to Feilong smoothly. Feilong takes it and holds the cup up to his face, letting the fragrant steam warm his face.

 

“No,” he says quietly. 

 

“Where have you been?” Fei can tell that Yoh’s trying not to be angry, is trying to be understanding, but the anger stirs a desperate longing in him.

 

“Out,” he says, as dismissively as he ever could have during his tenure as Baishe’s leader.  He turns his back on Yoh to walks away. Yoh’s hand on his arm makes his knees tremble with gratitude. Sometimes Yoh lets him get away with his bullshit.  _ Not this time _ , he thinks frantically.  _ Please, not this time… _

 

“I’m afraid I’m going to need you to do a little better than that,” says Yoh firmly, though he’s still keeping his voice calm, trying to sympathize. Feilong clenches his fists.

 

“I wished to clear my head, if it’s any of your business,” he says coldly. “As for the blood, someone made the assumption based upon my appearance that I’d be an easy victim. I convinced them otherwise. Take your hand off me.”

 

Yoh, thank the gods, doesn’t. He pulls Feilong back around and grasps him by both arms. Their positions so graphically echo the way he and Akihito’s roleplay the other night had started out that he feels nausea rising again, and tamps it down viciously, lifting his chin to stare imperiously at his lover.

 

“That won’t do, Feilong-sama,” says Yoh gently. “We need to talk about this.”

 

“NO! No,” flashes Feilong, equal parts fury and despair. “I don’t want to fucking talk about it. And don’t fucking call me that. I need you to….I need you….”

 

“Oh,” says Yoh softly. Feilong almost sags in relief when the strong hands tighten painfully on his arms. He hardly struggles at all when Yoh spins him and pins him against the wall. The teacup falls from his hand and shatters on the floor. The white clothing is torn from his body, Yoh’s distaste for it evident in the way he tears the silk fabric angrily and throws it over his shoulder with a disgusted snarl. It had already been ruined anyway. Feilong had wandered for some time before coming home, and you can’t get dried blood out of white silk, no matter how hard you try.

 

His feet stumble when Yoh drags him physically to the bedroom. He’s thrown on the bed roughly, and Yoh follows him down, pinning him with his weight. Teeth on the back of his shoulders and his neck make him shiver, and he bites back his moans of desire at the bruising pain.

 

Yoh gets up and takes off his belt. The sharp sting of it on his flesh is heavenly, but it’s not enough. It’s not nearly enough. Silent, bitter tears soak his pillow, invisible against the white cotton. He should have known better, he knows this, knows that Yoh’s love holds him back from causing Feilong the kind of pain he craves right now. At least, in this way.

 

But when Yoh’s cock pries him open, without preparation and with only a little slick to ease the way, the shock and pain of it are almost enough, and the howling darkness in his head abates for a little while. He’s wound so tight he comes, screaming, at Yoh’s second brutal thrust.

 

****

 

The nightmares begin the following night. Faces, mostly. Brief flashes of imagery, of memory, slashing across his subconscious mind like wounds. He recognizes them all. Every face of every man he’s ever victimized, humiliated. Or watched it done to, sitting in his big, lofty chair in Baishe’s hall, directing his men to strip and rape a rival. Or a rival’s son. Each and every one of them wears Akihito’s face. 

 

He wakes up gasping, drenched in cold sweat, his fingers pressed to his lips to hold back his cries. He slips carefully from the bed and into the bathroom, where he takes a very hot shower, and scrubs every inch of his body until his skin is nearly raw. It doesn’t make him feel clean.

 

****

 

He doesn’t remember when this became his chair. His spot. This small seating area in the smaller room next to the living room, where he comes when his soul craves silence. The chair is comfortable, and reclines, so he can either curl up or stretch out in it as he prefers. A soft, fluffy blanket always lies folded over its back for chilly days, and there is a small table beside it, big enough for a lamp, an essential oil diffuser, a few books, and a tea tray. His calligraphy box fits on a small shelf at its base. All of those things sit ignored now. Feilong stares out over the city, silent behind the huge glass panels of the window. 

 

Normally, this place soothes him. Its peace and quiet smooth away the jagged edges and tangled nerves he always seems to develop when he has to spend too much time in the company of others, especially what he thinks of as “normal people.” Asami does it seamlessly, and it never seems to bother him. Feilong sometimes wonders if that’s true, or if Asami is just that much better at hiding annoyance and irritation and being overwhelmed in general than Feilong is. 

 

Perhaps it doesn’t bother him. For all that his upbringing had certainly not been without tragedy, or coldness, or its share of danger, Asami’s childhood had been different from Feilong’s. Vastly different. Feilong doesn’t even know who taught Asami how to kill, or if it is just part of his nature because he’s simply that strong, but he hadn’t been  _ raised _ for it.  _ I was born to be a killer. _ He can remember Yan Tzu telling him so, many times. Remembers every moment of his training. The dance, and his instructor with her snapping little cane biting at his legs when he missed a step or placed a foot wrong. The gymnastics, his muscles screaming with fatigue and strain, sweat burning in his eyes as he learned to wrench his body into flips and rolls and tucks. The martial arts with all the different cold-eyed masters who’d been instructed to forge his young body into a weapon. Until he’d become the perfect one. The perfect blade, slim, graceful, beautiful. Deadly. Broken. A monster. 

 

“A...Ani?” Every muscle in Feilong’s body goes tense at the sound of Akihito’s tentative voice from the doorway. He forces himself to relax and paints a soft smile on his face before he turns.

 

“Aki-kun,” he says warmly. He can’t bring himself to call the younger man his ototo right now. He sees Aki notice the absence of the endearment, and the tiny flash of hurt in his eyes. Ah well, perhaps that will be a part of Feilong’s penance as well, to spill lies from his lips which hurt no one but himself. “Ototo,” he corrects the slight, is gratified by Aki’s happy smile even as the word stabs into Feilong like a knife. Akihito can’t be allowed to see what this is doing to Feilong, because in his kindness and generosity, he’ll feel bad for it.

 

“Are...are you still mad at me?” asks Aki hesitantly, shuffling a little closer, looking worried and unsure. Feilong’s eyes widen in astonishment.

 

“Mad at  _ you _ ?” he asks, feeling stunned.

 

“Well. Yeah. I’m just….I’m really sorry I messed things up the other night. We didn’t get to finish and stuff. I’m…”

 

“ _ No _ ,” says Feilong fiercely. He opens his arms, shutting down the voice that shrieks in his head that they are far too stained, and Akihito smiles in relief and almost  _ runs _ the last few feet across the room, jumping into his arms with no sign of hesitation. Feilong catches him, as he’s been doing now for the past couple of years, praying that Aki doesn’t notice the fine tremor in his arms when they close. It seems that he doesn’t, for Aki burrows close, affectionate as a puppy. “Akihito...I’m not mad at you. I’m mad at myself, because I hurt you too much.”  _ Because I liked it. _

 

“You didn’t hurt me  _ that _ much,” scoffs Aki, grinning. “I only said ‘yellow,’ y’know. I didn’t mean we hadda stop the whole thing. I was….it was fun.”

 

“You weren’t having fun,” Feilong says softly. 

 

“Okay, it got a little intense,” says Aki reluctantly, and Feilong imagines he can see the shadow of the past in those bright eyes. “But just a little. I knew it was gonna make me cry. It always does, right? Only now you stay away, and I thought it was because I messed up the scene. FeiFei...I miss you. Asami misses you. If….if you’d rather be with Yoh, I….we understand. But I want to be with you.  _ We _ want to be with you.”

 

Clever, clever Asami, and so cruel too, sending Akihito down to talk to him about this, because Asami knows Feilong will not, cannot, say no to Aki about this.

 

“That’s not it,” he assures the boy. “I’m sorry I hurt you, Akihito. I just thought it would be better if I...gave you a little time to recover.”

 

“Well, I’m more than recovered enough. I….” His mobile, lovely face blushes becomingly. “I want to be with you. Both of you. Please come back upstairs with me?”

 

Numbly, Feilong lets himself be led, but plants his feet when Akihito would take them through the hidden door in the study and up the back stairs.

 

“No,” he says firmly. “Not through the playroom, Aki. I...give me a little time, all right?”

 

“Oh. Okay, sure. S-sorry, Feilong,” stammers Akihito, awkward and unsure of himself. Feilong smiles brightly at him.

 

“I’ll be fine,” he promises. It sounds sincere even to his own ears. “Just….until I’m over feeling like a brute for making you use your safeword.”

 

“But you’ll get over it soon, right?” says Aki earnestly. “Because I still want you to….uh….y’know….”

 

“Right,” smiles Feilong. This mask is so much harder to wear than the ones of bored indifference, of casual arrogance he’s practiced all his life. Smiling for his victim, who is too shiny and good inside to realize what he’s saying, is an ill fit. But Feilong has been well trained in the wearing of masks. He forces it ruthlessly to settle over his features. Akihito smiles back. 

 

Asami is waiting for them in his bedroom. His shirt is already unbuttoned, showing the sleek, muscled expanse of his chest and abs under golden skin. Feilong can’t help his body’s response to the sight of him. Asami’s grin at the sight of them holding hands is wolfish. He steps forward and gently takes Feilong’s hand from Akihito’s. His other hand slides into Fei’s hair, fingers tightening a little, but not really pulling. His kiss is as intoxicating as ever. His lips skim Feilong’s jaw and throat, his hot breath tickling the shorter man’s ear as he leans his head down to whisper.

 

“We won’t ask anything too rough of you tonight, beautiful one. Akihito wants you, and I always want you both. I think it will do you good if we simply...bring him pleasure. Together, so you won’t have to worry. You need to see that no trust is broken.”

 

Jerkily, Feilong nods, because there is really no way to refuse. They have done this often enough that his body knows the ways of it without having to think too much. The glide of hands pushing at clothing, the pluck of buttons being undone, the feel of warm skin against warm skin. Together, he and Asami turn Akihito into a pile of mush within minutes, panting and moaning, crying out both of their names. Asami tries to hand Feilong the red glass jar. Feilong opens his eyes, which he’s mostly been keeping closed. The bruises on Aki’s bottom have begun to heal, but they are still dark, and as damning as ever. Panic douses him with cold, and his eyes widen, white at the edges, a faint head-shake of negation moving his hair to slide over Akihito’s flushed skin. Fortunately, Aki’s eyes are closed, his head thrown back as Asami licks the tip of his pretty cock while Feilong softly strokes his nipples and tugs gently at the rings in them. Feilong sees the understanding in Asami’s eyes, and his tiny nod.

 

They change places. Feilong bends his head and takes Akihito’s arousal into his mouth. He closes his eyes again, and blocks out the lewd, wet sounds of Asami slowly stretching Aki for his cock, of Aki’s panting cries and begging, and when Asami fucks him, Feilong lets Aki’s cock batter the back of his throat with the rhythm of their lover’s thrusts, growing in depth and force as Aki demands it harder, harder. Tears of strain leak from the corners of Feilong’s eyes as it chokes him, as he struggles to breathe, but he doesn’t let himself fight it, or pull back to take away some of the strain. He swallows everything Akihito gives him when the boy comes with a loud cry, not noticing how far down Feilong’s throat he’s been thrust. But when he opens his eyes, he sees Asami looking down at him, his amber eyes hooded and all too knowing. 

 

Not much later, Akihito is out like a light. Asami slides out of the bed, tilting his head silently at Feilong, demanding that he follow. Feilong slips on the silk yukata that hangs on a hook on the bathroom door after Asami has donned his cashmere robe, and pads silently after him into the living room. Asami lights a cigarette and looks out the windows quietly for a few seconds.

 

“Is your throat all right?” he asks finally. 

 

“Yes,” whispers Feilong, because it hurts too much to speak any louder. Asami sighs.

 

“Feilong,” he says after another long pause, “I’m not sure I can tell you how to do it, because every man is different, and what worked for me probably won’t work for you. But I’m telling you that it  _ is _ okay to forgive yourself.”

 

“So you say,” croaks Feilong, his bruised throat muscles protesting the words. Asami crushes out his cigarette and is on him in two long strides, gripping the front of Feilong’s robe and yanking him close. His mouth covers Fei’s in a bruising, hot kiss that steals Feilong’s breath.

 

“I  _ do _ say,” he growls. “Do you think he’d have come to ask you  _ alone _ if he had any fear of you at all? Did his responses tonight seem feigned to you in any way? Because I promise you he’s not that good a liar. Maybe once he’s conscious again he’ll remember that you didn’t come, and maybe he’ll assume I took care of you after he fell asleep, but you  _ need _ to find a way to let this go, or it’s going to hurt him. Stop. You think I don’t know what you’re about to say? That you  _ have _ hurt him? Maybe, but only a very little bit more than he likes, and that happens to everyone who does the things we do. I spent a very long time learning how to do this at the hands of someone who’d been doing it for more than thirty years by the time I met him. You don’t have that, and yet you’ve still only crossed out of his comfort zone one time. Don’t let one mistake ruin something that’s actually....fucking beautiful. Don’t do that to Aki, Feilong. Don’t do it to me. We  _ forgive _ you.”

 

“I….yes,” rasps Feilong finally, because what else can he say? “All right. I...I will.”

 

Asami sighs again.

 

“Will you come back to bed?” he asks. Feilong takes a small step back from the offered hand.

 

“I will,” he whispers, “but...please let me wait until. Until…”

 

“Until his bruises fade,” says Asami, letting his hand fall back to his side. “I see. Very well.” He starts to turn, to go back to where Akihito sleeps so that the young man won’t awaken by chance and find himself alone. He turns his head though, and says over his shoulder as he walks away, “but he sleeps better when he sleeps between us. Don’t forget that.”

 

****

 

“Do you think it would help you to top me, Feilong-sama,” asks Yoh, who is nearly as observant as Asami and loves him besides. Feilong flinches a little, mutely shaking his head. Yoh wraps his arms around him. “You don’t have to yet, but I miss it. And we both know you can’t hurt me so easily.”

 

It’s true. Yoh has shown to be surprisingly attracted to pain from both sides, although he’s capable of enjoying taking a great deal more of it than he is dealing it out. He doesn’t push too hard, but he asks, and his logic is sound, so Feilong agrees to try. 

 

The warmup isn’t too bad. The flogger in his hand imparts a faint blush to Yoh’s scarred, incredible body. Yoh makes approving noises and urges him to go harder, to give him more. His body arches into the slow, steady, careful strokes, and his hips lift towards them, wordlessly begging for more, his enjoyment of it evident between his legs. 

 

But it turns to sawdust in Feilong’s mouth the first time Yoh cries out in pain. He drops the flogger with a thud and staggers back, his breath harsh in his healing throat. Yoh looks over his shoulder. In an instant, he has let go of the bar he’s been holding and takes Feilong in his arms.

 

“It’s all right,” he whispers into Feilong’s hair. “It will be all right.”

 

But it’s not. The next day, Feilong stares dully at his computer screen as he checks his email. There’s one from Tao, regaling him with stories of the things he’s doing at school. Of new friends, the clubs he’s joined, his classes and teachers, of a midnight raid on the Caf in the night. Feilong finds himself smiling. Oh, he should probably be cross with Tao over that last one, but can’t bring himself to. If it’s the worst rule the boy breaks during his time at boarding school, what harm can really come of it? It’s the first genuine smile he’s felt in days. 

 

Slowly, he sits up straighter in his chair. For all of Feilong’s sins, for all the people he’s hurt, for all the evil he’s done, there is one thing he has not tarnished. Tao. Tao is the one pure and good thing he’s ever done in his life, the one thing he’s never damaged or spoiled, the one thing he’s kept safe. There are a number of perfectly nice towns and cities in Kyushu. And nothing in any of them that Liu Feilong has tarnished or broken.

 

****

 

The tap at Asami’s home office door isn’t entirely unexpected. He recognizes Yoh’s brisk tap immediately. What he doesn’t expect, when he calls out for Yoh to come in, is the laptop that Yoh plunks down on the gleaming surface of his desk and shoves towards him. It spins once on the shiny finish and comes to rest, open to a browser search.

 

“What’s this?” Asami asks, frowning as he leans forward and pushes his paperwork aside to pull the laptop closer.

 

“That’s what Feilong’s been doing the past couple of days,” says Yoh, in an oddly strained voice. Asami’s eyes narrow as he reads through Feilong’s web history.

 

“He’s shopping for real estate in Kyushu?” he says in surprise, leaning back in his chair. “Near where Tao goes to school?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Yoh, if he wants to buy a second home to make visiting Tao more comfortable, I don’t see how that’s a problem. He can easily afford it.”

 

“I agree that would be fine, if that were what he’s doing,” snarls Yoh angrily. Asami sits up straight.

 

“How do you know this?”

 

“I overheard him talking to a realtor. About relocating. Permanently. He’s thinking about moving.”

 

“No,” growls Asami, feeling his own anger flare to match what he hears in Yoh’s voice. “He’s thinking about running away.”

 

“You have to do something,” says Yoh flatly.

 

“What is it you’d like me to do,” says Asami, though he’s pretty sure he’s got an idea what Yoh’s going to say. “I’ve told him I forgive him, and so has Akihito. I’ve explained to him that everyone makes mistakes when it comes to this kind of kink, goes a little farther than they meant to, when they’re into the kind of impact play we are. I refused to punish him for it, because he didn’t do anything to deserve that. I wanted him to realize he can forgive himself. He’s made such progress...”

 

“You need to rethink that decision,” says Yoh fiercely, leaning forward and gripping the edge of the desk tightly. “He needs you to punish him for it.”

 

“No,” says Asami thoughtfully, leaning back again and steepling his fingers in front of his mouth. Yoh opens his mouth to protest, to bargain, to argue, but Asami cuts him off. “He doesn’t deserve to be punished for taking things just a little bit too far with Akihito. I stand by that decision. But,” he continues, his tiger eyes going hot and predatory as he looks up at Yoh and smiles mercilessly, “if he thinks he can keep hurting himself the way he’s been doing and then  _ run away _ from me? Ohh, he’s got another think coming.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realize that Asami waiting so long to take action makes it seem like he's not paying attention to what's going on with Feilong, but that's not the case. It's just that after the understanding they reached in Drowning, he's really trying (and hoping) to let Feilong work his shit out, to trust him to do that. It's just that he doesn't know how much deeper Feilong's guilt runs than just hurting Aki. 
> 
> He's going to stop waiting now.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Asami and Yoh start to help Feilong handle his guilt.
> 
> It's intense.

Yoh’s shoulders sag a little in relief at Asami’s words and at the expression on the other man’s face. There can be no questioning Asami’s resolve, and Yoh has faith that he will be up to the task of managing to navigate the perilous chasm Feilong has fallen into, bringing them both out alive.

 

“I...I’m grateful to you, Asami-sama,” he says softly, bowing his head. “It’s….I struggle with it, sometimes, knowing that there are always going to be things I can’t do for him. Knowing that my sympathy for him will probably always stay my hand when he....requires...more hurt than I can give him. That I’ll...flinch. I’m glad you never do.”

 

Asami looks at him for several long moments, as if he’s assessing Yoh in some way, and it makes Yoh uncomfortable for some reason. Asami leans forward a little.

 

“There’s nothing wrong with having your own limits, Yoh. It  _ can _ come between some couples, when there’s a difference in what one person may need sometimes and what the other is willing...or able to provide. We’re lucky. I’m pretty sure Feilong will always be more than one person could handle on their own. But he has a family, and thus no  _ one _ of us ever has to.”

 

“I...yes. I know there are people who can’t understand why I’d stay with him, be monogamous when he’s not. That’s their problem. I don’t want anyone else, but I’m so glad he has you. You and Akihito, because without the two of you in his life, I’m certain I’d have lost him by now. I don’t say it, but I hope you both know that feeling is sincere.” He clears his throat and shifts a little. It’s a lot easier to express his feelings to Feilong. Asami nods.

 

“I understand there are limits to what you’re able to do to him,” he says, still regarding Yoh intently. “But are there limits to what you can stand to watch?”

 

“I don’t...what?”

 

“The thing is, I’m fairly certain that this time the solution isn’t so simple as beating his stubborn hide until he breaks down. I think it’s going to take all of us to bring him back. I can’t ask Akihito to be any part of what I intend to do to him, but I believe I’m going to need help with it. I’m asking you if you can stand to be there, to be with him, while I break him down badly enough to get through to him. It’s not going to be pretty.”

 

“It’s not going to be as bad as what his  _ family _ did to him, is it?” asks Yoh grimly.

 

“No. But it might be close.”

 

“I’ll handle it,” says Yoh, looking straight back into Asami’s unflinching eyes. Asami nods. 

 

“Here’s what I want you to do….”

 

****

 

Feilong tabs half-heartedly through pages of real estate listings. Every property he’s looked at has something wrong with it. Many are too small, not nearly luxurious enough for his tastes. Others aren’t defensible enough. Some are too modern while others are too traditional. This one requires too many repairs and renovations, while that one isn’t even finished being built. He frowns in annoyance and wonders if perhaps he shouldn’t just buy a hotel in one of the more fashionable districts. He can always take up residence in one of the penthouse suites and then relax while the rest of the property earns him more money. 

 

But before he has a chance to finish typing in his web search terms, a powerful hand snaps his laptop closed, narrowly missing smashing his fingertips. He snatches them back with a hiss of anger, opening his mouth to curse at Yoh for interfering with his research. The words die on his lips when he looks up and sees Asami looming over him, his tiger eyes blazing down on Feilong with poorly banked anger. Feilong’s own eyes slide away guiltily. They freeze in the process, drawn inexorably back to the object which dangles from Asami’s other fist, hanging down beside his right leg. 

 

It is a Western style quirt. Nothing at all like the elegant but vicious little toy Feilong has in his own collection, this one is braided of thick, heavy leather. Its twin tails are stiff, sturdy rawhide. It is a tool, not a toy. Fear turns the blood in Feilong’s veins to ice even as his eyes are drawn to the quirt in fascination, like a mouse before a cobra. A desperate  _ want _ almost swamps him at the sight of it. His body sways a little, drawn to the  _ thing _ in Asami’s hand, a part of him thinking maybe it can save him. But the dreams, and all the faces, crash into his mind with the force of a train wreck and his breath is stolen in the panic that rises.  _ They’ll know. They’ll find out, _ he thinks desolately. 

 

He shoves himself back from his desk and leaps to his feet. It’s a defensive stance, balanced and ready, trembling on the cusp of lashing out. 

 

“Did you really think I’d allow you to run away from me, Liu Feilong,” says Asami in a low, silky voice which Feilong recognizes as possibly his most threatening. He closes his eyes for a split second, the warmth of the past promises Asami has made him offering solace, but he opens them again, eyes frigid, crouched for an attack.

 

“Feilong-sama, let us help you.”

 

Yoh’s voice. Behind him! He’s been neatly trapped, distracted by Asami’s powerful personal presence and Feilong’s own fascination with him when he’s angry at some selfish or recklessly self-destructive thing Fei has done. He whirls to face the new threat, eyes darting back and forth nervously between them. Yoh’s steady love shining in his dark eyes. Asami’s burning resolve and unflinching willingness to do whatever it takes to make Feilong break down his own walls. There is no doubt that between the two of them, they’ll be able to do just that. He thinks about what they’ll find if they succeed.  _ No. I can’t do this. _

 

“ _ Red, _ ” he lets out in a gasping cry. “Red, red. No! I’m not doing this!” He holds out his hand as if to ward them off, but it is also a plea. As if on cue, they each take a step closer to him. Yoh falls to his knees before Feilong and wraps his arms around his lover’s waist. Asami’s body presses against him from behind, his hands resting lightly on Feilong’s shoulders, but not restraining him.

 

“Don’t do this, Feilong-sama,” whispers Yoh. “Please….please let us help you. Don’t block us out. We are your family, your true family, and we love you.”

 

“You don’t understand,” says Feilong bitterly. “I never deserved this chance. Never deserved any of you. I ignored it for a while, because I wanted all of this so badly. I was selfish. Don’t you see? It’s more than Akihito. The things I’ve done….I can’t keep living with the absolution the three of you offer, when I know I don’t deserve it. I could….gods, so easily...I could let Asami wash away this pain. For a while. Accept Akihito’s forgiveness, and yours...and pretend that it’s enough.”

 

“Have you forgotten that I was there, by your side, every step of the way when you rebuilt your father’s Triad,” says Yoh. His voice is harsh, a cold slap of reality that widens Feilong’s eyes. “Do you think I’m not aware that right now you are seeing Akihito’s face on every one of your memories? If the absolution Asami-sama offers you is nothing more than a...sticking plaster over your deeper guilt, then it is because you choose not to allow yourself to face those darker demons, and reach for healing.” Feilong’s head rears back a little as though he’s been physically struck.

 

“If you won’t seek true forgiveness,” rumbles Asami’s low voice in his ear, “it’s bullshit to say it’s because you don’t deserve it. You’re just hiding from it. You’re being a coward, Feilong. No one’s saying it will be easy. You’ll have to work for it. But hurting all of us by running away, abandoning everything we share, devastating Akihito? That’s not something  _ I’ll _ forgive. Man up, Feilong. We’re not offering you an easy way out. We’re offering to help you find a way to really heal, if you’re brave enough to take it. I understand you well enough to know that the first step is pain. A lot of it. We’ve been stopping with that step for a long time. We’re offering to stay by your side if you’re willing to keep taking the rest of the steps after this part….the easy part….though I don’t intend to make it very easy. We have no choice but to respect your safeword. I won’t proceed now. But maybe that’s better for you, in the long run. Because now you have a choice to make. You can keep running, Feilong. Or you can ask for our help. It’s up to you.”

 

Feilong looks down at Yoh, then cranes his neck a little to look behind him at Asami. He sees no condemnation in their eyes, only acceptance, and a fierce determination. His heart quails at what they’re suggesting. But then he thinks about what the rest of his life will be like if he runs away from the only true home he’s ever found. He thinks about never holding Yoh’s unconditional love in his arms again. He thinks of never feeling the brutal kiss of Asami’s fearless acceptance of his darker desires. He thinks of never looking into Aki’s laughing eyes again. In the end, there really isn’t a choice to make. He pushes Yoh back gently and turns to face Asami. His legs tremble a little as he sinks to his knees. Taking the strong hand which grasps the butt of the quirt, he brings it to his lips and kisses that hand.

 

“Help me,” he whispers.

 

****

 

It is Yoh who drags him to the playroom by his hair, his fist unyielding in the coal-black silk, and Yoh who strips off his clothes. Yoh’s eyes are solemn, but the kisses he feathers over Feilong’s face are tender and full of love. Asami follows behind them, a solid and reassuring (if more than slightly terrifying) presence behind Feilong. He lowers the padded platform from the wall while Yoh is gently taking off Feilong’s clothes, then directs Feilong to kneel near the end of it.

 

“Get in front of him,” Asami orders Yoh, “and hold on tight. You can’t let go, no matter what.”

 

“I’ll never let go,” says Yoh firmly, but Feilong can see the worry in his eyes. Before he wraps his arms around Yoh’s neck, his fingertips smooth away the tiny frown line between his lover’s brows.

 

“Thank you,” he says softly, as Yoh gathers his hair and softly draws it over his shoulder, baring his back, to let it fall over his shoulder and down his chest between them, “for being here. I’m sorry it will be...distressing for you.”

 

“What you’ve been doing to yourself for the past week is a lot more distressing,” Yoh responds, and takes hold of Feilong’s wrists, then drapes them around his own neck. “Where do you want my arms, Asami-sama?” he adds. 

 

“Hm,” says Asami thoughtfully. He turns and walks to one of the mirrored drawers in the wall and takes out a pair of heavy, black leather gloves with wrist guards. Handing them to Yoh, he instructs him to put them on. “Around his waist, please, and clasp your own wrists. I don’t intend to miss, but I’d rather you have the gloves anyway, as a precaution. I won’t be striking him there, to protect his kidneys, and that way you’ll be able to support him as well as hold him still.”

 

Yoh swallows a little in mild horror at Asami’s implication that Feilong is actually going to need to be both held still  _ and _ supported. His imagination supplies him with rather frightening images of Feilong being beaten into unconsciousness, but he doesn’t think that’s what Asami means. At least, he’s reasonably sure the man doesn’t.  _ He’s referring to moral and emotional support. Right? _

He wraps his arms around Feilong’s waist and pulls his lover close. When their bodies meet, Yoh becomes aware of two things. One is that Feilong is trembling all over. He sees the shine of terror in the other man’s eyes before Feilong buries his face against Yoh’s neck. The other is that he’s also very, very aroused. Yoh huffs out a silent laugh into Feilong’s hair. It probably shouldn’t surprise him. Feilong has been a study in contradictions since the day they met. He clasps his wrists together and captures the trembling body against his own firmly. Feilong lets out a tiny moan against the skin of his neck. Yoh does his best not to shudder in reaction to the gust of warm breath against his skin, or Feilong’s lips touching him. He thinks he’s mostly successful.

 

“You must not let go, either of you,” says Asami firmly. Yoh meets his steady gaze and nods. “Feilong, don’t mistake what I’m about to do. You are  _ not _ being punished for what happened between you and Akihito last week,” he continues. His voice is cool, but underneath it, Yoh can still hear that he’s also still pretty pissed off about finding out about the real estate searches. “You’ve been hurting yourself a lot more than you hurt Akihito, and that’s not allowed. And you thought you could try to run away; from your actions, your past, from  _ me _ ? Maybe from your pain. It doesn’t matter. The only people who are allowed to hurt you are with you in this room right now, and you’re not included in that count. So you’re going to suffer for it. A lot.”

 

Yoh realizes, as well as Asami does, that what’s really going on here isn’t actually  _ just _ about punishing Feilong at all. He’s a little less sure whether Feilong realizes that or not. It’s got a great deal more to do with ripping off the bandage Yoh himself had mentioned earlier. Feilong’s guilt over the people he’s hurt in the past, Akihito being only one of them, is very much like a festering wound. The pain Asami gives him...is about to give him... is something surgical. It will, they both hope, open up that wound and empty out the suppuration, the poison inside it, so that Feilong may begin to heal, if he’s ready to. 

 

Feilong’s only response to Asami’s words is another low moan. His arms tighten around Yoh’s neck. Yoh nods to Asami, who takes a step back. The hand holding the quirt rolls, setting the short whip looping into a lazy spin. Yoh understands how the implement works, has even experienced the vicious bite of the one Feilong owns for himself. The body of the whip is a little under two feet long, a round braid about the thickness of Asami’s thumb along it’s body, with round, braided knots at each end; a larger one at the butt and a smaller one at its end. But the body of this whip isn’t meant to strike flesh, not even that of the horses it was designed for. It’s more of a lever of sorts, functioning much the same way the atlatl, or spearthrower, used by ancient hunters did, designed to increase the force generated by a human arm and channel it into the business end of the tool. Two thick, stiff tongues of tanned rawhide are attached to the knot at the end of the quirt, almost as long as the body of the whip itself. It’s not a toy of grace and precision like the signal whip. It is primitive, raw, and Yoh has no doubt it is going to be brutal.

 

The contrast between motion and sound, and then Feilong’s reaction to the impact of the first stroke are startling. Asami changes the angle of his wrist, bends his elbow and tosses the short whip forward almost casually. The rawhide lashes make very little sound as they lick across Feilong’s back. It seems very much as if Asami’s first stroke is little more than a test, a simple lining up and measuring of distance, not intended to have very much effect. But Feilong’s body goes rigid in Yoh’s arms, his breath catching in his throat, then letting out in a short, shocked “Hah!” Yoh peers over Feilong’s shoulder and his eyes widen at the sight of a dark red line marring the pale flesh of his lover’s back, neatly bisecting some of the scars left by the sjambok. His heart quails a little at the sight. If this is what it looks like when Asami hardly puts any effort into his stroke at all….He swallows hard and holds on a little tighter, closing his eyes.

 

He keeps them closed for a long time, his face buried in Feilong’s hair. Relying on Feilong’s body’s reaction, the muffled sounds he makes with his own face pressed hard against Yoh’s neck, the soft rustle of Asami’s movements, and the deceptively quiet slaps of the twin tails against Feilong’s skin (so much quieter than a whip’s crack or the thick slap of a leather belt or the loud crack of a paddle or the meaty thwack of a flogger that they seem to whisper in comparison), the experience is at the same time almost surreal and yet also strangely beautiful. He becomes aware that his neck and shoulder have grown damp. Feilong is crying softly, silent, hot tears wetting his skin. He’s still shaking, except for the moments when the quirt lands and his body jerks or flinches. Yoh opens his eyes to look at Asami.

 

The older man is something to see. Yoh’s breath catches for a moment before he’s able to speak. Asami’s golden eyes are burning like molten amber coals. His black hair falls over his forehead and into his eyes so that he has to pause every now and then to toss his head a little. He has rolled up his sleeves and unbuttoned the top two buttons of his shirt. The corded muscle in his forearms flexes and bunches as he hurls the quirt at Feilong’s shuddering body. He is every inch the alpha predator Yoh knows him to be. His raw magnetism is almost palpable in the air around him, an almost tangible aura of power and dominance and raw sexuality.

 

“He’s fighting it,” Yoh informs Asami.

 

“Yes,” agrees Asami in a chilly voice. “And he should know better. He thinks he needs to suffer. Even more than usual when he ends up in front of me in a state remotely like this. You’d think he’d’ve learned by now that I’m not going to stop until I’m done, no matter how much he screams or cries. Or begs,” he adds darkly. He pauses the whipping and strides forward. Powerful fingers tangle in Feilong’s hair, yanking him roughly back by his head. Feilong lets out a guttural groan, his arms tightening again around Yoh’s neck. “Stop trying to spare Yoh and make yourself suffer more, you insufferable, perfect creature,” he purrs evilly into Feilong’s ear. He licks shining tears from the gasping, shuddering man’s face.

 

“Yes,” growls Yoh, leaning forward to bite Feilong sharply on his throat where Asami holds it conveniently bared in a long, graceful curve for him. “Stop insulting me by thinking I’m not going to be able to take it. You  _ pissed _ me off, Feilong, going out in the middle of the night like that in your  _ fucking _ funeral clothes and coming home with blood on you.  _ Daring _ to pretend someone just  _ happened _ to decide to try for you? Bullshit.”

 

“Oh  _ really _ ?” Asami’s angry purr drops several octaves, his grip on Feilong’s hair tightening mercilessly enough that it forces a cry from Feilong’s throat. “So you went out looking for someone  _ else _ to hurt you, did you?” His eyes flick to Yoh’s. “Was any of the blood his?”

 

“No,” Yoh replies darkly. “But I’m not sure that absolves him much.”

 

“You’re quite correct,” growls Asami. “It doesn’t.”

 

Feilong lets out a choked sob. Gods, they’re going to strip away everything. Every last shameful thing. Asami’s grip in his hair and Yoh’s strong arms around his waist are anchors, of course they are, but he feels cast adrift in a storm of his own making, and the waters are too deep. These anchors cannot moor him in safety, they’ll pull him down, he’ll drown! Blindly unaware of what he’s doing, he yanks against Asami’s hold and lets go of Yoh’s neck, pushing at him, trying to get some distance between them so he can get away. Both men’s grips are firm. 

 

“Let go of me,” he cries out loudly, trying to thrash, but finding to his dismay that it is ineffective.

 

“Never,” says Asami calmly. “Feilong, stop this.”

 

“No,  _ never _ ,” echoes Yoh, squeezing even harder. Asami takes another step forward so that he crowds Feilong’s body against Yoh’s at the edge of the platform. 

 

“You’re afraid, Feilong,” he says softly into Feilong’s ear. “And that’s okay. I don’t believe there’s anyone in this room who hasn’t done things in their life that they regret.” He pauses, and Yoh nods at Fei. “It’s something we’ve all had to learn to deal with in our own ways. But you, Feilong, don’t have to do it alone. Stop fighting. Your sins aren’t being laid bare before the innocent and the righteous here. Who are we to judge you?”

 

“We won’t do that, Feilong-sama,” confirms Yoh with conviction. “We’d have no right. This is not about judgment. Just let us  _ help _ you. Stop fighting.” When Feilong doesn’t, Yoh risks letting go of him with one hand, because he trusts that Asami has sufficient control of their struggling lover. His dark eyes sharpen as he grabs Feilong’s chin in fingers that grip nearly hard enough to bruise, forcing him to look into Yoh’s eyes. “Stop it right now, Feilong,” he snaps. 

 

And Feilong does, slumping a little between them, squeezing his eyes shut against the tears of humiliation that threaten to fall, overtaking the ones of bitter shame he’s already shed. Yoh lets out an inaudible sigh of relief before he continues.

 

“You will stop acting like a scared little boy this instant. It does not behoove the man I’ve been following for all these years. The man who stole my heart and holds it still. Cowardice is not your style. Now, as Asami said before, man up. Do you hear me? Are you listening, Liu Feilong? Stop. Fighting.” Feilong lets out a long, shuddering sigh. Slowly, he wraps his arms around Yoh’s neck again and lays his head back on the other man’s shoulder. His voice is but a thread of a whisper, but both Yoh and Asami hear him fine anyway.

 

“All right. Don’t stop.”

 

“Well done,” murmurs Asami, and though he looks into Yoh’s eyes when he says it, it’s clear he means the words for both of them. He relaxes his grip of Feilong’s hair, rubs away the sting in his scalp with gentle fingers for a moment, then steps back. 

 

The sound of the tails striking Feilong’s skin is louder now, a soft SPLAT that causes Feilong’s slender, hard muscled body to writhe against Yoh for several seconds before he relaxes again, panting quietly against Yoh’s neck. He begins to harden again too, having lost his arousal during his small moments of panic. Yoh ignores it, as well as his own body’s instinctive response to Feilong squirming against him, the hot breath on his skin, and the sounds Feilong makes when the next blow falls. Asami isn’t giving him more pain than he likes, yet. Of course, the amount of pain Feilong’s capable of liking would probably send most people screaming for another province. Or continent. 

 

Asami whips Feilong slowly, giving him time to settle between strokes. He knows where he needs to take Feilong, and has plenty of patience to get him there, but this particular quirt is no toy. It’s one thing to miss a stroke with a less intense implement due to one’s target moving around too much, but if  _ this _ implement were to accidentally strike where Asami doesn’t intend, it can and will probably yank Feilong straight out of the mindset Asami needs him to be in. There’s also the fact that he’d just as soon avoid hitting Yoh’s hands or forearms with it either, even if the gloves will offer some protection, and it’s not a bad thing they’re positioned to cover Feilong’s kidneys. He intends to strip off a very old, very thick metaphorical bandage, not accidentally make the wretch end up pissing blood. They’ve been there once, thanks to the sjambok, and he never wants to see it again.

 

His tiger eyes roam over Feilong’s pale skin, taking in the sight of the red marks and slight welts marring such fair beauty with predatory interest. From the way Feilong’s lithe body writhes after each stroke, and the way he’s moaning into Yoh’s neck, and the relaxation in his muscles, Asami judges that Feilong is finally ready, finally on board with what he needs. He catches Yoh’s gaze and nods once again. Yoh swallows, reading the sharp intent in the look, and nods back, shifting his knees a little on the padding of the platform to brace himself and pulling Feilong even closer. Feilong seems to sense what’s happening. For a moment he tenses all over, as if he’d brace himself for it as well, but this would, of course, be futile and he knows it. Asami hears him let out his breath on a long sigh, then he relaxes in Yoh’s embrace. 

 

“You are so brave, beautiful one,” says Asami softly. “And so lovely you take my breath away.”

 

And, so saying, he shatters that loveliness into pieces. The quirt slashes across Feilong’s body like a weapon. Thick weals the width of one of his fingers rise up beneath its kiss, dark and angry on the fair canvas over which he paints. Feilong no longer has any hope of fighting the pain. Within minutes, he screams at every blow. His grip on Yoh’s neck is vice like, but Yoh holds him back just as tightly. Asami covers his lover’s back, his ass and thighs with cruel welts, raw at their terminus, and darkening with bruising almost immediately. 

 

Soon, broken sobs are torn from Feilong’s throat along with his broken cries of agony, but Asami does not stop. Nor does he stop when Feilong begins to beg him to. His pleas for mercy are heartbreaking. Asami curses softly under his breath.

 

“Please….please, I’m sorry,” wails Feilong. “I’m so sorry! No more, I can’t do it anymore. Please! Oh please forgive me! AHH! I’M SORRY! I’M SORRY!! PLEASE, PLEASE FORGIVE ME!!”

 

For he realizes now that Feilong isn’t talking to him, or to Yoh either. He’s pleading with the faces that haunt his nightmares, and it rips at Asami’s guts so hard he has to pause for a second to swipe a hand over his face and mutter under his breath.

 

“Gods help me.”

 

_ Feilong remembers the first time like it was yesterday. The man he’d then believed to be his uncle informing him they’d been fortunate enough to seize the son of one of their major rivals on his way home from school. The rival Triad had been causing a lot of trouble. Interfering with shipments, stealing deals from them with organizations Baishe was trying hard to cultivate, and most recently killing two of their lesser members in a faked bar fight. _

 

_ “So, we shall hold him hostage to ensure his father’s capitulation?” Feilong had said. “Not a bad plan. Good work, Li Chen.” _

 

_ “That is part of the plan, yes, Fei Long Daai Lou,” uncle had told him, a leer pulling at the corners of his mouth. “But we will not hold the boy for long. He will be used to teach his foolish father a lesson. No one must be allowed to defy Baishe, or you, if your plans are to succeed.” _

 

_ “We’re going to kill him, then?” Feilong hadn’t allowed his distaste at the thought to show on his face. Li Chen had been right, they could not show mercy. Baishe’s regained strength was still too young and tenuous. If he was to truly rebuild his father’s legacy, he could not hesitate. _

 

_ “Of course not. That would result in a man with a death grudge against us, and we’d have a war on our hands. We’re going to send him back defiled.” _

 

_ Feilong had known, of course, that this was not an uncommon practice among the Triads. When you really wanted to put down a rival hard, you didn’t kill them, you humiliated them. Their rival’s son was only sixteen. The thought had made him feel more than a little ill. Only 5 years younger than himself. There were many things he’d despised about the world in which he’d been raised. He’d also known, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that if their rival would ever get his hands on Feilong, whether then or when he’d been as young as the boy his uncle had been speaking of, they’d have done the same to him. He’d sighed, feigning annoyance rather than showing his abhorrence. _

 

_ “I see. Very well. Do it.” He’d known as well that if he showed his own clan any sign of weakness, they would not hesitate to kill him in his sleep some night. They’d all known then that he was not the Old Liu’s blood son, and no one had known for sure that Yan Tzu was dead. He’d disappeared the night of their old leader’s death. _

 

_ “You misunderstand, Daai Lou,” Li Chen had said, grinning nastily. “You will do it. No one else.” _

 

_ Feilong had tried briefly to pretend to be too busy with other matters, but in the end, it had come down to a choice of showing weakness to his own men and rendering his life worthless, or giving in to their demands. Their rival’s 16 year old son had been his first victim, the first innocence he’d taken. When he’d finished, he’d stood up, turned his back on the crying boy, walked slowly and with dignity from the room and down the hall to his own chambers, locked the door….and vomited until there had been nothing left inside him but bitter bile and self-hatred. _

 

Feilong shrieks as the quirt slices across his ass again and again. He doesn’t struggle against it, but clings to Yoh like a lifeline. His legs are shaking too hard with pain for him to hold himself up anymore, but Yoh’s arms are strong, and hold him firmly in place. A small part of him longs to end his own torment. Gods, it hurts so much. There is wetness on his back and trickling down his ass to tickle at his thighs that he knows is not sweat. And yet, through his desperate sobs, he welcomes the pain. Considers it just. As he forces his will to accept the pain Asami gives him, a very small part of his guilt is seared away by each lash. A fair price paid for innocent blood, for his own bitterness and greed in seeking to rebuild what he could have turned his back on, because he’d wanted revenge on his father’s killer badly enough to become a monster. Every tear he sheds, every scream ripped from his lungs, every broken sob feels like penance. True penance, this time, as he forces himself to look his guilt in the eyes.

 

He feels awareness begin to slip a little. The room seems surreal. He doesn’t quite feel connected to his own arms where they cling to Yoh for support. The light seems funny. The pain recedes a little, not because it’s not still terrible, but because, he realizes as spots form before his eyes, he’s actually pretty damned close to passing the hell out. But he feels a little lighter too. He knows, dimly, that this is not the end, that it’s not enough, and there will be more he has to do before he’ll truly be able to stop seeing certain faces in his nightmares. But for the first time he thinks, albeit a little muzzily as his vision begins to tunnel, he can  _ imagine _ a future in which he doesn’t see them.

 

“Thank you,” he whispers. His voice is raw with screaming, a mere thread of a sound. He hopes they can hear him. Hopes they know how much he means it. Dear Yoh, for whom this has surely been almost as torturous as it’s been for Feilong himself, but who has held him up and borne it with him anyway. And Asami, who understands, and will never flinch away from giving him what he needs, even if it’s ghastly and awful and… Ah. He smiles. They’re both touching him now. Yes, that’s good. That’s so nice. Asami’s hands are warm and gentle as he carefully pries Yoh’s arms from around Feilong’s body and helps catch him as he slumps, nearly insensible, into both their hands. He senses that he’s moving. It feels like floating through the air. Then he’s cradled in softness. Hm, he’s so tired. He hears Yoh’s voice, speaking anxiously, though he seems a little far away even though Feilong can feel his arms around his shoulders. 

 

“Don’t sleep yet, beautiful one.”

 

Asami’s voice, and Feilong can’t ignore the command in it. He blinks as he struggles to keep his eyes open. 

 

“Y’s, ‘Sami-sa...sama,” he murmurs. He tries to reach up and touch the handsome face that leans over him, but his arm flops down onto the bed weakly. He frowns at it. His limbs ought to obey him, oughtn’t they? He hears Asami’s soft chuckle, then his hand is lifted and he feels Asami’s cheek against his palm. Warm lips, as Asami turns his face and kisses Feilong’s palm. His hand is lowered again and tucked against his own chest. Something is brought to his lips. He opens them obediently. Sweet, cool tea slides down his throat, his favorite oolong. Oh, it’s so good. He lifts his head and drinks more, suddenly terribly thirsty.

 

“Easy, Feilong-sama, there’s plenty more where that came from,” says Yoh gently.

 

“Can I see him now?” Aki! Oh, it’s Akihito’s voice, except it’s too far away.

 

“Get us some more tea, and bring some of those cookies you made yesterday,” says Asami. “Give me a few minutes to treat his cuts, then you can see him.”

 

“Okay.” Aki’s voice sounds breathless, almost frightened.

 

“Don’t be scared, Aki,” mumbles Feilong, frowning.

 

“Shh,” says Yoh, brushing sweaty hair out of Fei’s eyes.

 

“He’s not scared,” says Asami softly. “He’s only worried about you. He’ll be back.”

 

“Nn. Good,” sighs Feilong.

 

“Fei,” says Asami. “Feilong!”

 

“Mmhhm?”

 

“Are you listening? I’m going to put antiseptic on a few places where the lashes cut you a little. I’m sorry if it hurts you.”

 

“Yes,” agrees Feilong, smiling at Yoh’s touch on his face. He supposes that the coldness Asami smooths over his skin may sting, but it’s a far away sort of sting, and barely registers compared to how hot his back feels. It’s followed by a cool, damp cloth laid tenderly over his burning flesh that feels like heaven. He makes a happy sound in the back of his throat and burrows against Yoh. A sheet is laid over his body. It feels cool and nice as well. That’s good. Aki is coming back. He doesn’t want Aki to see, it might make him cry. Sometimes it’s cute when Aki cries, sometimes sexy, but he doesn’t want Aki to cry  _ for _ him, not now. Especially not now.

 

“I brought tea and cookies,” he hears Akihito say, still sounding out of breath.

 

“You can bring them,” says Asami. 

 

“Here, FeiFei,” whispers Akihito, leaning over him. “I brought you your favorite, the lavender and vanilla shortbread. Can you take a few bites?”

 

“Ototo,” sighs Feilong happily. It’s the best cookie in the entire world. 

 

“Oh  _ Ani _ ,” breathes Akihito. 

 

“Yoh...please...I want,” Feilong frowns and struggles to find the right words. He doesn’t want Yoh to leave. He doesn’t want any of them to leave, but hearing Aki’s voice makes his arms feel empty.

 

“It’s fine, my love, I’ll stay right here beside you,” Yoh says softly, smiling down at him.

 

Then Aki wriggles carefully into his arms. Ah, he’s lying on his side, that’s probably why the room and everyone in it seems so oddly crooked. Akihito fits under his chin just the way he has for a long time. Feilong wraps his arms around his little brother and sighs. 

 

“Love you, Ototo,” he breathes.

 

“I love you too, Ani,” whispers Aki, but Feilong is already asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for sticking with me so far! Phew, this chapter was intense! I hope some things are starting to be a little clearer about where this is going, and what's been happening in everybody's heads. I thought when I started this chapter that it would be the last one, but it got pretty long, and there's still one more scene to write, so there will be another chapter coming up.
> 
> A sticking plaster is basically a band-aid, but for some reason, probably because they've been living in Hong Kong for a long time, it didn't feel right to me for Yoh to say "band-aid"
> 
> Thanks so much to Cdreaiton and Fujoshi_gal for their help beta-ing this story!
> 
> This is basically the kind of quirt Asami is using, if you want to see what I'm talking about:  
> https://www.amazon.com/Black-COWBOY-Riding-Quirt-Bullwhip/dp/B00CPT6P0I


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Feilong and Asami discuss atonement.
> 
> Then there is porn.
> 
> Okay, but really, that part's about atonement too, and if you've been reading the rest of this series, you won't even have to squint to see it. Uncle Ryu has come home from his business trip, and the scene that started this whole story is reinvented.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so happy with this story. I can't express how thankful I am to Fujoshi_gal for suggesting it. I've had so much fun writing it, and the response has been really rewarding too. I hope you guys like how it ends! Your comments are always welcome!

It doesn’t really take much searching to locate his target. Feilong loves winter but hates to be cold. His chair by the window with its warm blanket had been his refuge of choice for a long time, but Akihito’s nostalgic reminiscing over the kotatsu at his parents’ home had made Feilong’s ears perk up, and all the questions he’d asked Aki about such things had told Asami it was only a matter of time. He’d been pleased when he hadn’t needed to lift a finger, not out of disinterest or laziness, but because it pleased him to see how efficiently Feilong could make things happen again. A short deck with a sunken seating area was now the home of their brand new kotatsu, large enough to accommodate more than half a dozen people. Asami had expressed doubts about the need for or practicality of such a thing inside either of the two luxury condos, which were never cold unless someone decided they wanted them to be. Feilong had grinned and had the thing built outside. In three days. 

 

Asami finds him there now, burrowed deep under the kotatsu’s thick blanket with nothing but his nose and eyes visible. The February wind, especially up this high, is fierce. Asami slips beneath the covering himself and manages to suppress a sigh of contentment at the delicious warmth that seeps immediately into his bones. 

 

“You’re not hiding out here, are you?” he asks, taking care to keep his tone light in case Feilong  _ is _ actually hiding, but the look Feilong slants him is relatively untroubled.

 

“No, thank you,” says his lover, his mouth quirking at one corner. “I’ve only been able to truly enjoy the experience of sitting in my beautiful new toy in reasonable comfort since yesterday. I assure you I’ve decided that running away from anything is very bad for my health.”

 

“What a wise decision,” murmurs Asami, grinning at him wolfishly. 

 

“I’m just thinking,” says Feilong softly. Asami waits patiently for him to continue. “About atonement.”

 

“Oh?”

 

“You mentioned….last week, I mean,” says Feilong, and though his words come out hesitatingly, Asami is relieved not to  _ hear  _ hesitation in them, only a sense of deeply penetrating thought, “that what had worked for you...might not work for me.”

 

“Yes,” says Asami, still softly, still waiting.

 

“It’s different for everyone,” muses Feilong, then he looks at Asami, who can see a myriad of emotions in those dark, fathomless eyes but is hugely, breathtakingly glad that he doesn’t see the same dull despair that had been there just a few days ago. “But it’s not just the forgiveness that’s different in this case, is it? The sin is different too. Your list was… considerably shorter than mine, I think.”

 

“I won’t argue with you about it,” he replies evenly. “Though there’s plenty of blood on my hands, not much of it is innocent. I’ve tried most of the time not to involve anyone innocent in the… messier aspects of my business, and for the most part, I’ve succeeded. But I had a choice, Feilong, and for the most part, you never did. My father may have been a bastard, but he was my biological father, and I grew up at least as privileged as I was neglected or emotionally abused by him. I’ve always ultimately made my own choices, and every time my life has been in danger it was because of actions I’d taken with perfect awareness that they’d put me in the line of fire. You’re absolutely right that it’s very different. The innocent people I hurt, I chose to hurt, of my own free will. Both times.”

 

“Just two?” murmurs Feilong, letting out a soft, mirthless laugh. He’s cut off when Asami’s fingers reach out to brush a wayward strand of ink black hair out of Feilong’s face where the wind has blown it, tucking it softly behind his ear.

 

“Well, they do seem to be fairly good about letting me make it up to them,” he says softly.

 

“Do you have any idea how ironic it sounds for you to try to claim that  _ I’m _ one of the innocents you hurt?”

 

“You were, though. Somehow, even after everything they’d already done to you by the time I met you, there was still something so enticingly pure about you. I chose to walk away, when I could have taken the time to prove to you whose bullets had taken so much from you that night, and whose had saved your life. But I didn’t. I decided it was too messy,” says Asami. Feilong sighs.

 

“And yet, you sent me Yoh. As he and Akihito are both fond of saying, all the steps we took led us to where we are today. And it  _ is _ where I want to be. I just...does that mean the lives I stepped on along the way were worth it?”

 

“I think that most of them were  _ survival _ ,” says Asami calmly, even though a very large part of him would still like to hunt down the remainders of Feilong’s foster family and erase them from the face of the earth. “I also think it’s allowed for you to place a good portion of the blame for your sins on the shoulders of the men who made you into who they wanted you to be. And to accept that the man you are  _ now _ is who you choose to be, not who they made you, and to let go of at least a little of the blame you’re shouldering entirely by yourself.” Feilong blinks at him in surprise, as if he hadn’t thought of this before. “As for what did work for me, well...you’re living it. Akihito chose to give me a second chance, and so did you. I just try not to make either of you sorry for that choice, every day. That’s my atonement.”

 

“I think it works for me as well, when it comes to Akihito and Yoh….but it isn’t as though I can hunt down every one of my past victims and make them the same promise,” says Feilong with wry self-deprecation. 

 

“You do know that there were more than a few men among them who’d have done the same to you if they’d had the chance, don’t you?” asks Asami. 

 

“What makes you think a few of them didn’t try?” asks Feilong with a flash of his teeth in a vicious smile. Asami shakes his head.

 

“There are times I think the world would be a better place if the Triads finally managed to just wipe each other entirely out of existence,” he sighs. Feilong agrees with him.

 

“Believe me, I do know the difference between a true enemy and an innocent,” he replies drily. “I have been thinking about a lot of things these past few days… facing memories I’ve done my best to bury for a long time, as honestly as I can. I know there are people out there to whom I’ll never be able to apologize for what was done to them. In many cases, for what I did to them. Sons or brothers of rivals or outright enemies who had nothing to do with what was going on in our world, used and humiliated to force compliance from men who understood no other language. It’s been going on for centuries. It’s  _ expected _ , and if you try to refuse, you’re seen as too weak to hold the reins of your own organization. It’s abhorrent. And I don’t know what to do to make any kind of recompense. I think there is none. There’s…. simply no one else in the world like Akihito.” He tucks most of his face back beneath the edge of the kotatsu’s cover and sighs heavily. Asami regards him in silence for some time.

 

“It’s likely true that you can’t do anything about the past,” he says slowly, at last. Feilong glances up at him bleakly. “But I think there might be something you could do about  _ now. _ ”

 

“Tell me.”

 

“What if you took everything you have left of Baishe’s assets, liquidated everything, and founded some kind of charitable fund for people who’ve been hurt that way?” Asami suggests diplomatically.

 

“I think if I’m going to be honest with myself about the parts of my past I regret the most, it’s going to have to be all right to use the words ‘sexual assault,’” comments Feilong, but he sits up and leans forward, his eyes lighting up at Asami’s suggestion. “But that’s brilliant. I’ll do it anonymously, and perhaps all that blood money will do some good.”

 

“I’ll gladly offer you Kei’s help if you want it. He’s spearheaded the founding of scholarships, charitable foundations and endowments for me over the years, and he knows all the ins and outs of it.”

 

“As much as I’d like to do it myself, I honestly haven’t the faintest idea of how to proceed, so I’ll accept,” says Feilong with a rueful shrug.

 

“You’re breathtaking, did you know that?” says Asami suddenly. Feilong blinks and stares at him in confused surprise.

 

“Wh...what?”

 

“You can’t see it, because no one ever sees themselves the way others do, but when I look at you now, it’s like I’m seeing that beautiful 20-year-old boy grown into the man he was always meant to be, and I think it’s even worth having been shot over.” He slides closer to Feilong as he speaks, and covers the shocked gasp that escapes the other man’s lips with his own. Feilong makes a muffled sound, almost a soft whine in his throat, but kisses him back without any of the reticence Asami has found so frustrating for the past ten days or so. He smiles when he leans back, and broaches the subject he’d come in search of Feilong about in the first place.

 

“Well, you’re not the only one who’s been thinking,” he says casually. 

 

****

 

Despite a great many misgivings, even though both Asami and Akihito have done their best to assuage all of them through reassurances and a great deal of planning, negotiation and even actual  _ scripting _ of what they plan to do (which are all things they’ve never done much of, having found that they all enjoy the spontaneity of letting things just happen, whether they’re spur of the moment or the bare bones of a scenario brought about by someone’s confessed fantasy), Feilong finds that in the end, his fears that he’ll have the same issues as before with getting into the right headspace are completely unfounded. The act of stripping himself of his silks and tailored clothing and slipping into a band t-shirt and board shorts makes him feel lighter than he has in weeks. Pulling his hair off his neck and into a messy ponytail causes shivers of vulnerability to pebble his skin. The act of hovering nervously in the doorway to the living room, exchanging wide-eyed looks with Akihito, sends butterflies whirling madly in his stomach and even though the nerves are mostly to do with horribly conflicted thoughts of what had happened last time and concerns that this is a terrible mistake, he finds that he can  _ use _ the butterflies. Because Uncle Ryu has come home, and it’s time to pay the piper. And then, the moment Asami appears, his dress shirt untucked and rolled up at the sleeves, faded blue jeans hugging his thighs and hips like sin (Uncle Ryu dresses a lot more casually at home than Asami does), and those amber eyes seeing right through him, Feilong vanishes from his own mind like smoke and he fits inside the skin of his younger self just fine.

 

“He did  _ what _ ?” Uncle Ryu looms over both of them where they sit beside each other on the sectional sofa, looking shamefaced and nervous as they make their confessions. Fei peers up at his uncle from under his eyelashes, his stomach tying itself into knots of tangled terror and helpless desire. His breath comes shallow in his throat at the thunderous expression on Uncle Ryu’s face. Aki makes a small, distressed sound beside him, and he squeezes his brother’s hand a little tighter in a gesture that is meant to be comforting.

 

_ “Let me handle this.” _

 

_ “But Fei….he’s gonna know!” _

 

_ “How is he gonna know? Besides, I  _ did _ punish you.” _

 

_ “But it wasn’t…” _

 

_ “Aki...it was my fault. I knew I shouldn’t have used the bath brush, but I was mad and scared, so I did it anyway. You did the right thing to let me know the way you did. Please, just let me handle it.” _

 

_ “It’s not fair though! He’s gonna punish you so bad, and I barely got anything really….” _

 

_ “Yes, you did! I hit you too hard, because I didn’t know enough about what I was using, and it’s on me that you freaked out that way, not on you.” _

 

_ “It was only ‘yellow,’ FeiFei, you shouldn’t have stopped…” _

 

_ “Yeah, probably, but I freaked a little too when I saw how upset you were, and I just...I couldn’t keep going after that, but it’s still my fault. So keep your dumb mouth shut, okay? I said I’d handle it, and I will!” _

 

_ “I guess so. It still doesn’t seem fair, but….okay.” _

 

Fei takes a deep breath and looks up into Uncle Ryu’s eyes.

 

“I...I said that Aki stayed out a little past his curfew, but that was the only thing,” he says, trying hard to keep the small tremor out of his voice. He lifts his head and looks steadily into keen, whiskey covered eyes. They narrow a little. Fei swallows again. Uncle Ryu smells a rat. This might not have been his best idea ever.

 

“How long past curfew?” asks the older man in a deceptively calm voice.

 

“I...didn’t think to look at the clock when he got home. Exactly. But….not too long.”

 

“Try again, little boy,” growls Uncle Ryu softly. Aki whimpers and shrinks back against the back of the sofa. Those keen eyes flick over to him, pinning him in place. “How long, Aki?”

 

Fei curses inwardly. 

 

“T-two hours,” cries Aki, crumbling instantly under pressure. “It was two hours late, Uncle Ryu. I was with my friends and I...I lost track of time…”

 

“Lost track?” asks their uncle, giving him a penetrating look. “Really?” Aki’s cheeks flush pink.

 

“S...sort of?”

 

“Hmm. Or perhaps you thought it might be exciting to do something so  _ very  _ naughty while there was someone a little more lenient in charge?”

 

“No!” Fei sits up straighter and lifts his chin stubbornly. “That’s not true, and he...he didn’t get away with it, either. I punished him.”

 

“Did you?” muses Uncle Ryu. He turns his back on them and strolls over to one of the tall curio cabinets. It happens to be the one which holds the repaired vase which they’d once accidentally broken. Idly, he picks up random objects and pretends to view them with great interest. “And yet both of you still look so guilty. Why is that, I wonder.” His voice is deceptively soft and calm. Aki looks at his brother with big, frightened eyes. 

 

_ Tell him, _ he mouths silently. For a few moments, Fei tries to convince himself to brazen out the story he’d convinced himself would work. He’s going to be in pretty big trouble either way. Fair or not, he’s always held responsible if  _ either _ of them misbehave while Uncle Ryu is away. He’s left in charge, and thus he’s ultimately responsible. Truthfully, Fei has never cared whether it’s fair or not, even though Aki worries about it, worries for him. But the older boy has never been able to explain to his sweet, kind, tenderhearted little brother why it doesn’t matter. He’s not even sure he understands it himself, the way his body craves Uncle Ryu’s relentless hand, the way he dreads and requires the exquisite agony of it. He doesn’t know why, but knows beyond any doubt that mercy from this man is the last thing he wants. His cheeks flush red with shame and he bows his head.

 

“I did punish him, Uncle Ryu,” he whispers, “but I screwed it up.”

 

Their uncle turns sharply on his heel and marches back over to where they sit, crouching down in front of them. His strong fingers grip Fei’s chin almost painfully, and force his head back up.

 

“Explain,” he bites out sharply. 

 

“I...I used the bath brush,” admits Fei miserably, longing to look away as Uncle Ryu’s eyebrows draw together and anger flares in his eyes. “I hit him too hard, and he used...used his safeword, the way you taught us to.”

 

“Aki, are you all right?” asks the older man gently, though his fingers tighten and Fei has to bite back a soft pain sound. 

 

“I’m fine, Uncle,” says Aki anxiously, his big hazel eyes darting back and forth between the two of them. “And he’s not telling you all of it.”

 

“Aki, shut  _ up _ ,” hisses Fei furiously. 

 

“Is he not?”

 

“No...he’s….he’s trying to protect me,” gulps Aki. “I...I  _ did _ use a safeword, Uncle Ryu, but it was the yellow one. I just sort of...got scared and freaked out a little because….because FeiFei’s never. Never sp-spanked me that hard before. And he stopped, right away. And he took good care of me, he really did!”

 

“I see,” says Uncle Ryu thoughtfully. He sighs, then rearranges them on the sofa so that he sits between them. “Start at the beginning,” he says firmly, “and tell me everything.”

 

So they do, awkwardly, and not very eloquently, and with no small amount of contradiction in their versions, but Uncle Ryu’s shrewd and pointed questions get to the bottom of things in the end. 

 

“All right,” he says slowly once they’ve finished. “Let me see if I have this straight. Our budding little delinquent here thought it would be interesting to stay out way past his curfew because he wondered what his brother would do about it, then asked Fei to keep it a secret. Fei got angry, and chose to punish him with an implement with which he was not familiar enough to use correctly, and struck Aki too hard with it too soon in the...proceedings, which led Aki to panic a little and need to slow things down. Which, I’d like to point out, was the correct thing to do. And, also correctly, Fei, you did stop, and made sure he wasn’t damaged.”

 

“Yes, Uncle Ryu,” they both whisper softly.

 

“But now we have a problem,” continues their uncle. “Fei feels guilty for hurting his baby brother too badly, but Aki feels guilty because, deep down, he knows he hasn’t been sufficiently punished for as serious an infraction as the one he committed. Does that sound about right?”

 

Aki nods, but Fei frowns and clenches his fists.

 

“No! He’s been hurt enough, and that was my fault. He doesn’t deserve to be punished anymore.”

 

“So he should be forced to continue to feel guilty himself, and to have to, at the very least, listen to  _ your _ punishment in a little while, which is, under the current circumstances, going to make him feel even worse, just to save your conscience?” demands Uncle Ryu keenly. Fei’s head snaps up and he stares at his uncle in startled surprise. 

 

“I...I didn’t...I mean…”

 

“Your instinct to protect your brother is always admirable,” Unle Ryu interrupts him, “but when you let your feelings of guilt over your own mistake blind those instincts, the only person you’re really trying to protect is yourself.”

 

Fei’s face flushes hotly, because Uncle Ryu speaks only the truth. Tears prick the corners of his eyes as shame washes over him.

 

“Aki,” he whispers miserably, “I’m sorry.”

 

“FeiFei, no,” whimpers Aki, leaning over Uncle Ryu to reach for his brother. “Please, please don’t feel bad. Uncle Ryu,” he adds imploringly, “please don’t punish him for this too. I’m the one who broke a really big rule, and...and I asked him to lie for me, he was right to be mad about it, and he didn’t mean to...to…”

 

“Hush,” says Uncle Ryu gently, tugging his already off-balance youngest nephew into his lap. “You’re both going to be punished in exactly the ways you deserve. No more, and no less. Come with me.” He kisses Aki roughly on the forehead, then sets him on his feet and stands up. Shakily, Fei scrambles up and follows him to the bedroom, the familiar sense of fear and dark excitement warring in his belly. When they reach it, Uncle Ryu directs Fei to go and sit at the head of the bed with his back against the wall. Confused, he obeys, feeling awkward and clumsy as he crawls onto the huge mattress. 

 

_ Is he going to make me watch while he spanks Aki? _ He wonders in confusion as his uncle and little brother hold a whispered conversation at the foot of the bed. Aki looks tense, and a little scared, but oddly relieved at the same time. He turns and flashes Fei a wobbly smile, then scurries to the bathroom at a sharp word from his uncle.  _ No, he can’t be making Aki get the bath brush, not after what happened. Can he?  _  The idea seems too awful somehow. But Aki returns with a normal hairbrush in his hand, his knuckles white as he grips it tightly around its smooth wooden handle. He clambers up onto the bed and holds it out to Fei. 

 

“What?” gasps Fei, his eyes widening. His hands curl into fists and press hard against the bed. If his back wasn’t against the wall, he’d be hiding them behind his back like a little kid. He shakes his head and his eyes dart nervously to where Uncle Ryu stands leaning one hip against the dresser, his arms crossed over his broad chest.

 

“Take it,” he says, his voice a low, baritone growl in his chest that brooks no disobedience. Almost as if of its own free will, Fei’s left hand comes up, his fingers uncurling reluctantly, and accepts the hairbrush from Aki. The handle is a little damp from the nervous sweat of his brother’s palm. 

 

“I don’t...I don’t understand,” whispers Fei. 

 

“Then I’ll explain it to you,” says their Uncle coolly. “I left you in charge while I was away on business, and this time you not only had permission, you were  _ expected _ to properly discipline your brother if he broke any of the rules badly enough to require it. He did, in fact, break a very serious rule. The fact that he returned home safely doesn’t negate the fact that he could just as easily not have. You both have curfews for multiple, and very valid reasons. Not only that, but he asked you to cover it up for him, which would have resulted in very serious consequences for you when I found out about it. Which I would have, because you’re both very bad liars. He earned himself one  _ hell _ of a spanking. He knows it, and so do you. Your inexperience led you to make a mistake, and as a result, he doesn’t feel like he’s been sufficiently punished, especially in light of how severely  _ you _ are going to be punished for allowing something like this to happen on your watch.”

 

Fei stifles a helpless moan at these last words. His cock twitches in his pants, hardening recklessly at the threat. Uncle Ryu notices of course, and his mouth twitches at the corner before he hardens his expression again, and continues.

 

“So before that happens, you’re going to take the responsibility I gave you, and get it right. You’re going to spank him, properly this time.”

 

“Oh, Uncle Ryu, I….” Fei protests.

 

“ _ Now _ .”

 

Fei looks at Aki, still kneeling beside him on the bed, with tortured eyes. Aki’s thumbs are already hooked in the waistband of his jeans.

 

“Aki,” whispers Fei miserably, “I don’t...I don’t know if I  _ can _ !”

 

But Aki smiles at him, even if it’s a little wobbly and his eyes look a little scared, and leans forward to wrap his arms around Fei’s neck. His breath is warm and tickles the older boy’s ear. Fei tries not to shiver.

 

“You can,” whispers Aki, squeezing tight. “I know you can, and it’s gonna be okay. Uncle Ryu asked me if I wanted it to be him or you who did it, just now. And I chose  _ you _ , and it wasn’t because you’re easier on me than him, even if maybe you usually are….because you can’t be this time, or I’ll end up gettin’ spanked twice tonight and I don’t think I’d like it too much. I chose you ‘cause I  _ trust _ you, FeiFei. I always have, and I always will. So...so you can. I love you, and you can.”

 

Buried deep inside his younger self’s subconscious mind, Feilong falls to his knees as Aki’s words wash over his tattered heart like healing balm. Love and gratitude bind up the ragged, torn edges of his battered soul.  _ It’s really going to be all right. _ He hugs Aki back fiercely, the hairbrush still clenched in his fist, but it doesn’t feel wrong or alien to him now. Aki shoves his pants down to his knees and settles himself a little awkwardly over his brother’s thighs, kicking and squirming to get them the rest of the way off, and Fei bites his lip hard at the way it makes the younger boy’s hips grind against him.  _ Fuck, I’m so hard, if he doesn’t quit that pretty soon I’m gonna come in my fuckin’ pants like I’m 13 or something, _ he thinks a little frantically, banging his head softly against the wall and squeezing his eyes shut. Once Aki settles, he opens them again and Uncle Ryu is staring at him knowingly. He blushes.

 

“Do a good job, FeiFei,” purrs the older man, his voice like dark velvet over steel, “or you’ll both end up punished twice tonight, and I’ll send you to bed with that hard, pretty cock aching and unfulfilled between your legs.”

 

“Ngh,” gasps Fei. Aki whimpers. Fei looks down at him and sees that his baby brother’s bare bottom is as fair and unblemished as though the bath brush had never happened. _I didn’t damage him,_ he thinks with relief. He lays the back of the hairbrush against that pale, rounded flesh and rubs it in gentle circles. Aki shivers. Fei takes a deep breath and raises it. It’s terribly hard with Uncle Ryu watching him, but he steels his mind and firms his grip because he’s _not_ going to get it wrong this time. He’s _not_ going to be the reason Aki gets hurt more than he deserves this time! He wraps his other arm around the other boy’s waist and holds on tight, glancing over at Uncle Ryu, who smiles at him and nods. 

 

If his first few spanks are a little more tentative than usual, Aki certainly doesn’t complain. The light sting brings the slightest blush of pink to his cheeks and makes him writhe in Fei’s lap, whining softly through his nose. 

 

“You do realize you’re supposed to be punishing him,” says Uncle Ryu drily. Fei flushes a little and wraps his arm more securely around Aki’s waist. He sucks in a breath and firms his grip on the hairbrush handle, then brings it down with a firm, biting swat on the boy’s left cheek, then another on the right. Aki gasps and gathers handfuls of the soft grey comforter in his fists. Fei spanks him slowly and carefully, his teeth worrying his bottom lip until it swells and reddens, but he doesn’t notice. All of his focus is on Aki, and his determination not to fuck things up this time. Maybe it’s not exactly the usual point of a punishment spanking to build up the layers of heat in Aki’s perfectly round little ass so slowly, but Uncle Ryu doesn’t correct him again. His little brother moans and rocks against his thigh, whimpering and panting as Fei slowly spanks him harder. His hard little cock rubs against Fei’s lap, and Fei tries hard not to think about his own arousal, trapped tightly between them. He already aches, but he knows it’s going to be a long time before he gets to come, if he’s allowed to at all. 

 

At last Aki’s moans become cries, and his voice takes on a distinctly wet and sorrowful tone. It’s hot and beautiful and powerful, having him bent submissively over Fei’s lap like this, without a single sign of tension or fear. Oh, he cries when his big brother lays the brush down harder, squealing and trembling when Fei pushes his legs apart and paddles his inner thighs with cruel, biting spanks, but he doesn’t try to get away. He begs through his sobs for Fei to stop, to please not spank him anymore, that it hurts so  _ much _ , but these are exactly the words a punished little boy is supposed to say. Fei spanks him until Aki goes limp over his lap, bawling helplessly, crying too hard to beg anymore, and at last Uncle Ryu straightens up and comes to stand over them.

 

“Enough,” he says softly. Fei stops himself instantly in the middle of another stroke, dropping the hairbrush to the side as though it’s scalded him, and looks up at their uncle anxiously. He doesn’t see any anger or condemnation in the older man’s eyes though. Uncle Ryu’s hand rests on the top of his head for a moment, and Fei sighs in relief. “Well done.”

 

Aki sobs and curls around Fei, clinging like a barnacle when his big brother takes him in his arms and pulls him up to straddle his lap. This doesn’t help the state of his arousal  _ at all _ , but Fei ignores it resolutely and whispers nonsense words of comfort as he kisses away Aki’s tears. Uncle Ryu sits beside him on the bed, and they hold Aki between them, petting him until the younger boy slowly stops crying.

 

“I’m suh-sorry I was bad,” hiccups Aki against Fei’s neck.

 

“Shh,” replies Uncle Ryu firmly, carding his fingers through the boy’s messy blond hair. “Little boys are never bad anymore after they’ve been punished.” His fingers stroke softly down Aki’s spine to his bright scarlet bottom, tickling gently between his punished cheeks. Aki whimpers and rocks his hips against Fei, who tries rather unsuccessfully not to moan in response. Then Aki kisses him, wet and sloppy and so sweet he doesn’t even try anymore, and Aki yanks at his shirt so they manage to stop kissing long enough to pull each other t-shirts off and his lap is full of a very enthusiastic and very naked boy sucking on his tongue between mumbled “I love you, FeiFei,” and some really shockingly lewd demands, all of which Fei would be more than happy to comply with, except Uncle Ryu clears his throat meaningfully and they jolt apart to look at him guiltily.

 

“Not that I’m not appreciating the view,” says their Uncle, with a low, rough growl in his voice that indicates this is decidedly true, “but I’m afraid Fei and I still have some business to settle.”

 

All the spit dries up in Fei’s mouth. There’s suddenly not enough oxygen in the room, and his mindless dick throbs and drools between his legs with a horrifying lack of self-preservation. Uncle Ryu pulls Aki off him gently, then rearranges them with ruthless efficiency. Fei finds himself on his elbows and knees in the middle of the bed, strong hands yanking his shorts and underwear down over his hips and off his trembling legs. Aki sits in front of him, leaning against the pillows and wincing a little as his sore backside comes into contact with the bed. 

 

“Don’t move, either of you,” orders Uncle Ryu coolly. He gets up and leaves the room. Fei can hear and feel the soft grinding sound of the door to their uncle’s secret room opening. He’s been in there before once, when Uncle Ryu hadn’t wanted Aki to be distressed by the noises his big brother was going to be making. Fei’s face feels hot and cold at the same time. Uncle Ryu had caned him that time, for stealing some of his expensive scotch and getting drunk. His stomach clenches as he wonders if it’s the cane he’s going to get this time too. He doesn’t, but the thing in his hand when he strolls back into the bedroom doesn’t make Fei feel a lot better. The heavy tawse swings menacingly from his hand, thick and dark with repeated oilings. Aki gasps in horror. 

 

“Uncle Ryu,” he whispers, “you’re not going to...to...hit Fei with  _ that _ …”

 

“You don’t have to stay, Aki,” says Uncle gently, “if you think you can’t handle it. But I was going to let Fei suck your pretty cock while he takes his whipping, if you’re interested.”

 

“I...I’ll stay,” says Aki breathlessly. Fei whimpers. Uncle Ryu grins wickedly. He moves to the end of the bed to kneel beside Fei’s hip. His fingers curl around the base of his long, silky ponytail and yank the older boy’s head back. Fei stares at him out of glazed and shuttered eyes, panting through his open mouth as Ryu leans down to purr darkly into his ear.

 

“The first part of your punishment will last as long as it takes you to make him come,” he breathes, making Fei shudder. A hot tongue flicks at the shell of his ear, then sharp teeth nip gently before he continues. “You’ll be screaming too much to even think of concentrating on anything else for the second part.”

 

Fei’s forehead falls on his folded arms with a helpless groan. 

 

“Better get busy,” smiles Uncle Ryu nastily. “This is going to hurt like hell.”

 

Fei is unable to bite back his loud yelp of pain when the twin tails of the thick leather strap lash hard across his bare ass. He scrambles forward before it can fall again, pressing Aki a little rudely back into the pillows. 

 

“Ototo,” he gasps, bending his head down, “let me…”

 

“Ani,” cries Aki, arching his hips up when Fei’s lips close around the wet head of his erection, suckling gently for a moment before dropping his head to take the younger boy’s cock all the way into his mouth. Uncle Ryu gives him time to get into place and resettle his knees. Just. 

 

The crack of the tawse is loud over the sounds of Aki’s soft whimpers and moans as Fei sucks hard on his arousal. All Fei can think about is the second part of Uncle Ryu’s whispered threat, and making Aki come as fast as he can, not because he’s anxious to get to the second half of his punishment, but in hopes that his ass won’t be in too much agony before he even gets there. Gods, it hurts. The tawse is thicker and heavier than Uncle Ryu’s belt. A  _ lot _ thicker. Tears prick the corners of his eyes after no more than four strokes. It burns and stings his bare skin so much he’s not sure he’s going to be able to focus on what he’s doing well enough to give Aki the pleasure he’s been ordered to. Fortunately, it seems his brother doesn’t care overmuch that Fei isn’t able to apply his usual level of skill, crying out and arching his hips at the vibrations of Fei’s muffled howls of pain as Uncle Ryu whips him without pause or mercy. 

 

It’s all he can do to keep from bursting into tears as the heavy strap lashes across his backside over and over again, valiantly sealing his lips around Aki’s cock, but fortunately that’s all it takes. Aki rocks his hips, fucking up into Fei’s slack mouth between his cries of pain, then lets out a sharp cry as he comes. It tastes a lot like the salty tears that have begun to roll down Fei’s cheeks. 

 

Aki collapses back against the pillows, panting. Fei lays his head in his brother's lap and sobs as little as a final stroke catches him cruelly across the underside of his cheeks, biting into the tops of his thighs. Uncle Ryu lets him catch his breath for a minute while Aki pets his hair anxiously and shoots darting glances between them. His body language screams that he’s on the verge of fleeing. Fei wraps his arms around Aki’s hips and cradles his cheek on one bare thigh.

 

“Stay,” he whispers, voice thick with tears. “Please stay.”

 

“Okay,” Aki whispers back.

 

Then they can’t talk anymore because Uncle Ryu puts the palm of his hand between Fei’s shoulderblades and presses him down, relentless pressure forcing his chest and  upper body flat against the bed, forcing his knees farther apart, canting his hips up obscenely into the air. The air that is cool and terrifyingly exposing on his throbbing cock and aching testicles and his gaping asscrack. Fei whines through his nose and swallows thickly. Uncle Ryu kneels  _ over _ him, his thighs trapping Fei’s sides, knees denting the mattress on either side of his trembling body. The denim of his jeans is rough against the older boy’s flushed skin.

 

The split tails of the tawse slide over his ass, curling along the curve of his bottom and down his thigh. Fei’s breath quickens as he realizes Uncle Ryu means to whip him from above in this position, and just how exposed he is.  _ Oh gods. _ Uncle Ryu chuckles, and he realizes he’s said it out loud.

 

“I see the reality of your situation has begun to sink in,” he growls softly. A tiny sob escapes Fei’s lips before he can choke it back.

 

“ _ Please _ ,” he breathes. Just one word, but he knows now that Uncle Ryu understands all the other words wrapped up inside that small plea.  _ Please be strong enough for my bullshit. Please don’t show me mercy. Please keep me. Please, oh please….ruin me. _

 

And Uncle Ryu does, in ways Asami isn’t able to, because  _ Feilong _ is better protected than Fei, and is almost never able to be as vulnerable and needy as his younger self, even though all of his myriad parts crave this dark, sinful torment. The tawse  _ crashes _ against his left buttock, its rounded, thicker tips biting deep into the top of his thigh. Fei cries out in shocked pain as Uncle Ryu raises it over his shoulder again, bringing it down on the right side. Again and again he lays into Fei’s quivering, raw backside, every stroke inching ever closer to his center. The boy is sobbing when his uncle pauses. He lets the strap fall gently, allowing it to rest briefly over its intended target. 

 

“Nuh-no, oh no,” begs Fei, shaking with fear. “Puh-please, n-not there…”

 

“Oh yes,” Uncle Ryu assures him, raising his arm. 

 

Fei  _ shrieks _ when it lashes down, igniting his entire crevice with liquid fire, the tips biting cruelly into his taint. Aki’s hands are trembling as they pet and stroke his head and shoulders. He can’t see past Uncle Ryu’s broad back to what, exactly, he’s doing to Aki’s big brother, but he’s never heard Fei scream like that. The tawse slashes down again, igniting his flesh, the tips this time imparting their cruel kiss directly over his tightly clenched hole. Fei screams, blinded by tears, but inside his heart, he soars, because even though he’s been so  _ stupid _ , he hasn’t damaged the thing they all share after all. He cries and cries, arms locked around Aki, screaming and drooling against his baby brother’s thigh, while his uncle wrecks him, and it’s gorgeous. It’s also hell, and he thinks he might die. He babbles out incoherent pleas and apologies, howling when the strap licks at his raw flesh, curling down to blister his thighs or setting his asshole on fire or snapping so close to his balls he feels a little faint. 

 

At last, when he can’t even scream anymore because his voice is no more than a ragged whisper, Uncle Ryu stops. The tawse thumps against the mattress and Fei collapses onto his stomach, shaking and sobbing. Aki bends over him to press urgent kisses into the sweat-damp skin of his back, and Uncle Ryu lays down beside him. His warm hand strokes softly up and down his spine. Aki’s shocked gasp when he can finally see the state of his brother’s ass and his voice as he scolds Uncle Ryu for being so cruel seem far away, hard to focus on.  _ Is he really telling Uncle Ryu he’s a bully,  _ wonders Fei fuzzily. It seems a little reckless. But Uncle Ryu just laughs, and leans over to kiss Aki.

 

“Hush,” he says firmly, a gleam in his golden eyes. “I know how to give both of my boys what they need.” Aki opens his mouth to protest, but Fei nods, and reaches up weakly to push his fingers against Aki’s lips.

 

“Shh. M’fine,” he mumbles hoarsely. 

 

“You really are,” says Uncle Ryu softly, taking Fei’s wrist and drawing his fingers to his own mouth to kiss their tips and graze them with his teeth, which makes Fei shiver. “So  _ very _ fine, and so beautiful.”

 

“Gods, FeiFei,” whispers Aki, his eyes round as saucers, “you’re gonna have so many bruises though.”

 

“Yeah,” sighs Fei happily.

 

“Mm,” agrees Uncle Ryu. “It’s going to hurt like hell when I fuck him in a minute too.”

 

It does. Fei begs and begs him not to do it, and can’t help but cry again when Uncle Ryu’s thick cock spears into his sore, raw little hole, but they discover he can come while he’s crying just fine, and after that, at least for a few minutes, nothing hurts at all. 

 

****

 

He opens his eyes to darkness, wrapped in the warm blankets of Asami’s huge bed. He’s in the middle for once, Akihito’s warm body snuggled against his back, the boy’s soft snores tugging a small smile to the corners of his mouth. Asami rests on his elbow, his eyes seeming black and fathomless in the shadows.

 

“How long did I sleep?” he whispers. Asami reaches over and brushes a strand of hair out of Feilong’s eyes.

 

“About five hours. It’s nearly 4.”

 

“Have you been staring at me the whole time?”

 

Asami smiles briefly.

 

“No. Just the last hour or so. You haven’t smiled in your sleep in a while,” he says softly. 

 

Feilong arches his back and stretches, wincing when the brutalized skin of his ass flexes. The older man’s smile returns, wolfish and a little smug. 

 

“Sadistic bastard,” murmurs Feilong comfortably.

 

“Hm,” agrees Asami. “Perhaps you’ll stop being difficult?”

 

“Never,” says Feilong, grinning a little. “But I’m going to try to stop being a fool.”

 

“I’m glad to hear it,” Asami replies, turning over to lie down on his back. Feilong’s eyes drift closed again, then he hears his love speak once more. “You’re going to be all right, Feilong.”

 

“Yes,” sighs Feilong as sleep claims him again. “I really am.”


End file.
